


Surprises

by Isailaway



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isailaway/pseuds/Isailaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hot but Richard isn't complaining. So where is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from a discussion about favourite adverts...because of which, Million Moments may have an inkling what is coming. It is AU and implausible but I hope you like it anyway. It is set sometime after series 2 but in this Camille is definitely still in denial.
> 
> Characters are not mine, but any mistakes are! Please review. :-)

It was hot. 

Blisteringly hot. 

The kind of heat that had the tarmac steaming and caused all but the hardiest of sun worshippers to slip off for a lie down in an air-conditioned room. 

The kind of heat that would cause pale, pedantic Englishmen to pray volubly for drizzle and a cold biting wind. 

Well, normally.

Camille sighed and swept her slightly damp, abundant curls across an almost bare shoulder, batting ineffectually towards her neck with her hands to cool herself. Looking across to the empty desk in front of her she wondered at what point in time her brain had made the switch from wanting to slowly throttle the man who usually sat behind it, thereby silencing the grunts of dissatisfaction that constantly emerged, to the odd feelings of missing the moaning that she was currently experiencing. After two years of his daily grumbles, the office was far far too quiet. 

A creaking chair, followed by a soft snore from the opposite corner of the office drew her attention and she scrunched up a loose piece of paper, aiming and accurately throwing it at her colleague. It hit him squarely on the jaw startling him awake.

“What? Where? .....Oh. Sorry Camille” Dwayne grinned his apology, dropping his feet off his desk and sitting up.

“Well it’s not much fun sitting here with only your feet to talk to.” She replied good-naturedly. 

“Where’s Fidel?”

“I sent him home. Rosie isn’t coping that well in the heat and with Juliet so heavily pregnant…..”

Dwayne nodded. “And the Chief?”

Camille frowned, glancing back at the empty desk and listening to the whirr of the ceiling fan until Dwayne’s amused chuckle guided her attention back to him. He was observing her shrewdly.

“I don’t know.”

………………………………………………………………………………….

Time moved ponderously through the afternoon. The heat of the day lay over the station in a thick blanket, and work was not absorbing her.

Fidel had phoned to say he wouldn’t be back in that day and Dwayne had gone to talk to passing tourists on the beachfront. They were hoping to find some witnesses to a crime committed two weeks earlier. Posing as healthcare officials doing research into sun cream application, a group of twenty something year olds dressed in smart attire had managed to lift four iPods, five smart phones and a couple of kindles from unsuspecting sunbathers. With little to go on and victims dwindling as they finished their holidays and returned to homes around the world it was unlikely that anyone would be caught unless it happened again. Dwayne’s attempt to gather more evidence was a long shot and it was more likely to be the chance of an ocean breeze on his face that had drawn him down there. 

Camille had had enough. Mutinously throwing her pen somewhere in the region of her desk, she collected her bag and stalked out of the station. If Richard couldn’t be bothered to turn up to work this afternoon, or the previous few, then she’d be dammed if she was going to sit there waiting for him like a schoolgirl. 

What was she trying to prove anyway? And why was she so bothered about the absence of his voice when it would have only been heard grousing. The nagging thought tugged at her but she brushed it aside, heading for La Kaz.

............................................................................

“Ma Cherie.” Catherine’s greeting came with a broad smile as she finished delivering bottled beers to a nearby table. She quietly observed her daughter, who was still stood in the doorway, scanning the room with a practiced eye and a growing crease in her forehead and shook her head indulgently. Ah the poor girl. Why the Gods had seen fit to grant her this fate she would never know.

“Can I get you a drink darling?”

“Erm, yes. Yes please Maman.” Camille answered distractedly. “Where is Richard?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him today,” Catherine answered carefully, thinking back. 

“In fact it’s quite a few weeks since he was last here. It’s quite odd, knowing how much he loves his tea.” She hesitated in her movement back towards the bar then thought better of saying more. “I’ll get you a beer.”

Camille lowered herself into a chair, thinking through all the likely places Richard might be, and then some of the more unlikely ones. Her mother was half way back across the restaurant, beer on tray when the younger woman pushed the seat back violently, leaping to her feet.

“I think I know where he is,” she cried urgently and then was gone.

Catherine sighed and took a sip of the now unwanted drink. She picked up the abandoned shoulder bag and tidied the hastily left chair, questioning when it would be that her beautiful child would wake up to her feelings for her Senior Officer, and what would happen when she did.


	2. Chasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much everyone for your reviews. I am afraid I heartlessly responded to them and made sure I didn't give too much more away in ch2!
> 
> The new character Tiny is all mine. :-)

Driving fast across the Island, Camille tried to gather her thoughts. The first was that she probably owed her mother an apology; the second being that she hoped her bag, complete with police ID, phone and purse, was by now safely stored behind the bar and not in the hands of some opportunist.

She considered turning around and going back for it but decided that this; striking whilst the kettle was hot or whatever the phrase was that Richard liked to use, was more important.

This led to contemplating why locating her boss on a Thursday afternoon, when he was technically off duty but most likely contactable by phone, could possibly be considered as more important but brushed the notion away as she took a bend a little fast, tyres skidding.

Forty minutes later she pulled around site contractors and into the almost complete gravel car park. She paused to check herself in the small mirror behind the sun visor, angrily slamming it back up into the roof of the defender when she realised what she was doing, then got out and crossed to the large doors in front of her.

"Hey Camille."

A tall, dark skinned man called out as she pushed open the door and peered around it into the dark interior corridor. The contrast of the brightness outside made it difficult to see at first and Camille was working hard to put a name to the face and voice as he walked towards her.

"Tiny? Wow! Look at you! How are you?"

He grinned at her, pulling her forwards and into an enveloping hug, her feet lifting clean off the floor.

"Thought you were in Paris mate? Still trying to make the world a better place or have you given up chasing bad guys?" He asked, releasing her and allowing her to breathe again.

"I'll always be chasing the bad guys Tiny. But I'm back home and working in Honore now." Camille smiled and shrugged. "How about you? Last I heard you were off to travel the world and make your fortune."

The, it had to be acknowledged, handsome man smiled self-consciously. "Well I'd have said anything back at school to get your attention. Never really worked though did it."

Camille reached out and stroked his arm amicably; rapidly moving away from uncomfortable subjects such as her lack of desire to reciprocate the attention she had received from her high school peer group. Her smiling, flirty nature combined with her looks had meant there were many admirers but somehow they had never really pushed her buttons. She always seemed to fall for the oddballs or misfits.

"So what did you end up doing after school?"

"Bit of this and that. I did make it as far as New York, just didn't make any money is all. I've been in Mexico the last year or two but then this opportunity came up and I thought, why not?"

"And you're going to manage this place?"

"Yeah, pretty cool eh? Never thought anything like this would come to St Marie!"

Camille nodded her agreement, looking around her at the advertising posters decorating the walls. "And how long to opening?"

"Only a couple of weeks now." Tiny's smile slipped, apprehension tingeing his brows. "Do you think the locals will go for it?"

Camille toyed with a banal, reassuring reply then decided against it.

"I honestly don't know. We, I mean I came to one of the early planning meetings last year and it's a gamble. But they must have done their research, so….."

"Yeah, I guess." Tiny noticed her curiosity, her eyes flicking past him to the corridor stretching out behind them and his face brightened.

"Anyway, do you want a guided tour?"

"Yes please!" Camille agreed readily. If Richard were here, she wouldn't look so much like a stalker. She had simply met up with an old friend, a mere coincidence that they were here at the same time.

If he was here.

…..

"Evening Catherine." Dwayne sauntered into the bar, usual grin in place if slightly weary after the long, hot, unproductive day.

"Dwayne." Catherine acknowledged, automatically reaching for his favourite brand of beer.

"Quiet in here."

"I know." She looked around the room. A middle-aged couple, slightly beetroot in colour, was occupying one of the far tables and two late teens were scrutinising the jukebox. It had been much the same all day.

"I think the heat is putting people off doing much exploring. I'm sure it'll liven up later."

He nodded. "Has Camille been in?"

"Briefly." Catherine chuckled and Dwayne lifted an eyebrow questioningly, encouraging her to continue.

"She's off chasing Richard."

"Think she'll catch him?" Dwayne countered, knowing his question could be interpreted in more than one way.

Catherine shrugged, gesturing with her hands before placing them on the bar top that separated them, leaning forward.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I might." Dwayne grinned. "And your daughter might've figured it out too if they weren't so caught up doing this silly little dance around one another."

"She has seemed to be remarkably lax in using her detective skills when it comes to him," Catherine acknowledged.

"Do you know where he is?" Dwayne batted the question back to her.

"Not for definite, but I can make a good guess. If I'm right though, it's not yet open so who knows how he's talked his way in."

Dwayne laughed, then adopted an irritated expression, pulling out his Police Badge and slapping it onto the counter. "I am a Police Officer, I am hot and I demand to come in."

"And do you serve tea?" Catherine added, giggling.

Silence fell, the two sipping their drinks thoughtfully as they contemplated the eccentric Detective Inspector who had wormed his way into all of their lives.

"With Camille. Will it all end in tears?" Catherine asked, a few minutes later.

Dwayne scrunched his face up, considering. "He's not immune. I know that."

"I'd kill anyone who hurt my daughter."

"I'd help hide the body." The pair chinked bottles conspiratorially, sealing the deal.


	3. Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all of your expressed theories - both public and private. There are some great ideas for lots more fics in there!
> 
> Many many thankyous to those reviewed, they mean a lot to me. So here's the next bit...Million Moments said she wanted a fight...it might be building. ;-)

Camille followed Tiny as he walked her through the café and then into the changing area, trying to keep up with his excited chatter and hoping she was nodding and smiling in all the right places.

So far – no Richard.

Maybe she was wrong and her so called famous intuition had failed her. He could be in any number of places; it was silly to assume that just because it was hot, even for her, that Richard would have sought out and demanded entry into the coldest place on the island. It wasn't even open to anyone but contractors and the management yet; although that wouldn't have stopped him had he wanted to get in.

And how would he have got here? The island bus network was, well, relaxed was probably the word. The idea of Richard queuing for, and then travelling upon an over heated, over populated bus for almost an hour was enough to make her laugh out loud.

Almost.

If she didn't, for some inexplicable reason, feel slightly like crying.

"Camille?"

Tiny's voice made her blink and refocus. He stood by another set of double doors, the windows set into them still covered by protective blue plastic allowing no view through to the space beyond.

"Are you coming? You haven't seen the best bit yet!"

She smiled and inclined her head forwards. "Of course."

"Now it's not fully laid yet. We've got quite a few layers to spread but we wanted to paint advertisers names and suchlike on for the grand opening, and that has to be done at this stage so that it doesn't chip off."

Camille shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she moved through the doors and past her friend. The temperature had plummeted more than twenty degrees and she was suddenly aware of how skimpy a top she was wearing.

"Sorry – should have tried to find you a coat or something." Tiny lifted his arm, offering her space against his body to huddle into. A familiar action she wouldn't have hesitated to accept once upon a time.

She declined with a small shake of the head. "Thanks, I'm ok. I lived in Paris remember!"

"So what do you think?"

"Wow!" She meant it.

The place was huge. A well lit ceiling a hundred feet above them cast pools of light onto a protective cage of shiny glass, surrounded by rows of tiered seating. Within the glass a brilliant white oval arena glinted, half decorated with elaborate lines of paint forming names of local businessmen, the tourist agency and bank.

Camille walked forward to get a better look, her exhaled breath fogging up the glass as she pressed her nose to it.

"Come round here, the barrier is lower at this side." Tiny guided her around to one side of the rink and she leant over to get a closer look at the pristine ice.

"Have you ever tried it?" He asked.

"Once, outdoors." She replied, an image of the French Capital at Christmastime six years ago, taking shape in her mind. "It was fun."

Tony smiled, letting her enjoy the memories. "I tried it in New York. Took some lessons hoping to impress a girl."

"Did it work?"

"Sort of," he grinned.

"So how much more ice do you spread?"

"Well I'm not an expert on how this is all put together but I am reliably told that it takes less than ten minutes to lay each new layer of ice, and that once it is finished it'll be about 6cm thick. Pretty cool eh?"

"4cm." A voice from behind corrected them. Camille started in surprise then shivered again, firmly stopping herself from looking round.

"Pardon?" Tiny asked, clearly unfazed by the new arrival.

"It will be 4cm at finished depth. If it's any thicker then the refrigeration system will be overtaxed. Any thinner and the skaters' blades will cut straight through."

"Ok." Tiny hesitated a second, pride dented at not knowing the facts, then relaxed and turned to introduce his guest. "Camille, this is Richard. He's from England originally and has been explaining all the science behind ice rinks to me. I guess there are plenty to choose from in that part of the world!"

"And why is he here?" Camille answered, not entirely politely given the circumstances.

"Erm, well. He was finding the heat a bit much and was in the area, … so he asked if he could find a quiet corner to do some paperwork whilst we got on with the snagging list. I know it's not strictly legit, but you won't say anything will you?"

"I am here. I can answer for myself you know," Richard groused.

"Sorry mate." Tiny apologized. "But she's Police. I know, and you've probably noticed by now that we're laid back on St Marie but I don't want to get into trouble in my first month on the job!"

"Indeed." The irony thickly cloaked his voice. Camille didn't need to see his face to tell her that as he greeted her. "Detective Sergeant."

She took a breath, before crossing her arms securely over her chest and turning slowly. Apart from feeling thoroughly disconcerted by his silent approach, she realised she was angry. Really angry.

How dare he.

How dare he sneak away from work without telling anyone – her - where he was going. And on more than one occasion, he had been doing this for well over a week now. How dare he lie to her friend, by omission at least, about who he was causing the gentle, kind man to worry about the safety of his job should anyone find out he had let a random stranger roam around the complex unrestricted. How dare he make her drive all the way across the Island after him. And how dare he be the reason she probably had a new Police ID to sort out in the morning, new locks to put on the door to her flat and credit cards to cancel before she was left bankrupt by some thief.

From the half step backward that Richard took as she turned to face him, she guessed her fury had hit home without the need to speak. His lips pursed and he crossed his arms, subconsciously mirroring her pose. She arched an eyebrow, and his shoulder twitched in response. Brown eyes held green firmly. Dimly she registered that it was unusual his gaze hadn't yet slipped away from hers, he was defiant rather than apologetic.

"Camille? Richard?" Tiny questioned confusedly, not understanding the undercurrents. "Do you two know one another?"

"Not really." "Sort of." They spoke together, Camille's flat denial contrasting with Richards more hesitant reply.

"Camille, what's going on?" Tiny tried again.

Camille snapped herself away from Richard, switching on a smile for her old friend. "I'm really very sorry. I have to go now, and I will be taking Richard back to Honore with me."

"What?" Richard exclaimed, eyebrows creasing together. He looked like he was about to say more but the taller man beside him interrupted in his placid, mildly concerned voice.

"Why? Is he a criminal or something?"

"What?" Richard exclaimed again, missing the muttered I wish from Camille as an image formed in her mind of locking him in the rather humid and hot cells for the night.

She hesitated momentarily then replied to Tiny. "No, but we do need to talk to him about something. Thank you so much for the tour. Richard? Let's go."

She spun on her heels, dropping her arms and lifting her chin to start walking back towards the entrance. It had the unintended effect of highlighting her figure beneath the strappy top and she noticed both men's eyes drift away from her face. Tiny was relaxed and blatant in his regard in comparison to Richard whose brief glance caused a growing flush to colour his cheeks. She sighed. At least his embarrassment might mean he now followed without complaint.


	4. Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok – so I did warn you it would be AU. :D
> 
> However, having done some research I now know that there are ice rinks in really hot places, but more like Dubai than the Caribbean! Goodness knows what the cost is to cool the places down enough.
> 
> MEP –I know what you mean about wanting Richard to fight back. In the chapter I was going for the interaction we saw between them in ep2;5. Camille is so mean to him in the Land Rover and he just takes it. (I know she is grieving so I forgive her, and she apologises later) His bullied past coming out I guess.
> 
> Yes Katedf, Richard will definitely be back. I did like your earlier guess though.
> 
> I have sat and stared at this for a week and I don't think it's getting any better - sorry if it's not great folks.

“Get in.”

“Camille, I don’t think…..”

She glared across the roof of the Defender and he closed his mouth and climbed in, closing the door carefully behind him.

Barely giving him chance to fasten his seatbelt, Camille slammed the Land Rover into gear and screeched out of the car park. Richard acknowledged the startled expressions of the men finishing off their days work on the graveled area with a polite wave and half smile, half grimace, and then grabbed the door handle and held on for dear life.

After ten minutes of stomach churning twists and turns, bumps and grinds, aggressive accelerations and sudden braking as Camille careered along the narrow island road with seemingly little regard for her, or anyone else’s safety, Richard had had enough.

“Pull over Camille.”

She gave no indication of having heard him.

“Please will you stop the car before you kill us.” He raised his voice slightly, irritated at her lack of care. 

No answer.

“Stop the Bloody Car,” he yelled, slamming his hand down onto the dashboard. 

Camille kicked down hard on the brakes, steadying herself with both hands on the steering wheel and half hoping the rapid deceleration would lead to Richard’s head impacting on the windscreen. The man was infuriating sometimes. He made her so angry, almost violently so.

They ground to a halt, the toxic silence between them punctuated by sharp, short breaths as both inhabitants let their racing heartbeats slow. Through the wing mirror, Camille watched the dust cloud begin to settle on the road behind them whilst Richard stared resolutely ahead. The sun had long disappeared behind the heavy foliage on this part of the island and darkness was falling fast. He was a little unwilling to relax his arms from their braced position but flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders to release the tension, before reaching for a handkerchief to mop his clammy forehead.

After an age, Camille exhaled heavily, briefly dropping her head onto the steering wheel before quietly speaking. “That was extremely rude. You are a very rude man.” 

“Me?” Richard was incredulous. Of all the things he had imagined her saying, which admittedly was not a lot since he didn’t have a clue how her brain worked most of the time, but of all the most likely starts to a conversation, this one was not it.

“Yes you. Tiny is……..” Camille paused when she noticed Richards already raised brows climb higher still, correctly deducing his surprise at her high school friend’s name. “Have you not even asked his name? How often have you been there - and you didn’t even think to have a conversation with him? One where you didn’t just lecture him?”

“Which question would you like me to answer first?” Richard retorted sarcastically. Pulse rate rising once more at her irrational mood and unfair comments.

“Neither, none of them. It doesn’t matter.” She countered, her body language suggesting otherwise. “The point is, is that you were rude. He is a kind man and let you into the building despite the risks to his livelihood and you left without even the basic pleasantries.”

“Camille, I have absolutely no idea what you are going on about and you’re making even less sense than you usually do. I was perfectly happy there, very content. Your friend has not had cause to think my dealings with him have been any less than polite and professional and had you not barged in and ordered me to leave as you did, they would have gone on being so.”

Having imparted his speech successfully without the stumbling hesitations that had marred arguments throughout his life, Richard twisted round to look at her, her face half hidden by messy curls that she was not even attempting to tuck back. He was truly puzzled about the extent of her wrath and less than overjoyed to have been dragged away from the beautiful ice cold inside of the rink, to the humid, dusty heat of the vehicle. He had been particularly patient given how she had almost frog marched him out of there for no good reason. 

“And why were you there anyway?”

“Seeing my friend.” Camille snapped. “And now I appear to be your taxi driver.”

“An uninvited one. I didn’t need a lift back, I could have caught the bus.” 

“What, in the morning? They stop running before now you know.”

“No, no they don’t. I printed out a timetable and this one……..” he rustled around in his suit pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and thrusting it across to show her. “Here, look. This one leaves at 6.50.”

She brushed his hand away without a glance “Not since Anton ran off with his managers daughter it hasn’t.”

“What? Anton who?” Richard rubbed a hand across his eyes, struggling to keep up with the apparent change of subject.

“Anton who used to be the bus driver on that last run. Everyone in Honore heard about it.”

“Except me.”

Camille grunted disgustedly in reply. The man didn’t live in the real world. Did he ever look up and see what was going on around him? He might be brilliant at solving crime, but at social interaction he was completely useless.

“Sleeping in that building would have been quite a treat actually.” Richard interrupted her train of thought. “It’s got to be the first time in two sweat sodden years that I have been anything approaching cool.”

“How about thank you Camille.” 

“What? Thank you for almost physically dragging me away from the most wonderfully cold place on St Marie? Thank you for accusing me of being a rude man? Thank you for nearly killing me driving at this speed? Ok. Thank you Camille.”

She shot daggers at him but didn’t bother to reply, merely climbed out of the drivers seat, slamming the door behind her and started to pace up and down the dusty road muttering to herself. 

Richard stayed where he was, watching her. They had been getting along much better recently, or he thought they had. She had favoured him with more smiles and less frowning, and had clicked her fingers at him only once in the last week to draw his attention and suggest they have a private chat about something or other she didn’t agree with, although he had had to admit to himself that he was growing to like the peculiar little skip that his heart would give when she did that. 

And he had been glad. The team worked well together, he felt more settled and despite the heat, sand and horrid biting insects, he no longer yearned for London with quite the same zeal. 

But this, this gut wrenching sick feeling inside as he sat twisting his fingers together was not a pleasant feeling. Compounded by him having no idea what he had done wrong, or what to say to put it right.

Letting out a sigh Richard slipped out of his seat, leaving the door ajar and tentatively made his way across to where Camille appeared to be wearing a furrow into the ground. It was almost fully dark now and he really wanted to go home and have a cup of tea…….and then to crawl into bed for a dreamless sleep with the covers pulled up over his head. No dark eyes taunting him with promises he didn’t understand. 

Camille’s pace was slowing, probably the fading light rather than his approaching presence or her dissipating anger he thought, a rueful smile ghosting his lips. She looked up and caught the expression, the curiosity about his reasons for smiling yanking her out of her heated reflections. 

“Could we perhaps head back now?” He was at a total loss what to say to her, the simple request all he could come up with.

“Fine.” She breathed, turning lightly on the balls of her feet and pacing back to the Defender.

Richard had followed behind her, climbed back into the passenger side seat, adjusted his jacket and tie comfortably and had clicked his seatbelt firmly into its holder by the time he realised that the engine was simply not going to start, no matter how many times Camille tried to coax it, or plead with it, or swear at it. She thumped the steering wheel twice and then slowly turned her head to peer at him through the darkness. 

“What now?”


	5. Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the ongoing support/reviews. This feels hard going at the moment. I have ideas in my head that are just not sounding right written down.  
> I did a bit of research on the roads/birdlife etc etc. Apparently, the roads on Guadaloupe are pretty decent so take this with a pinch of salt. Well it’s not the most implausible part of my story after all!!  
> Writing this and the next chapter suddenly reminded loosely me of another scene…a pivotal one from my favourite ever TV drama. So just out of curiosity – can anyone “name that program?” It was British made, and is not that recent. 
> 
> Characters are not mine.

Catherine stacked the last chair onto the table, sweeping stray crumbs onto the floor with one hand then pausing to stretch. She peered up and down the darkened street in front of her. She had expected Camille to return to the bar at some point, if only to grumble about her boss but it was well past closing time. Dwayne had finally left an hour ago along with one or two holidaymakers who they had struck up a conversation with during the evening and there was still no sign of her. She sighed; she would have to wait until morning to assuage her curiosity.

******************************

The silence in the Land Rover was deafening. Neither wanted to be there. Neither wanted to speak for fear of igniting yet another argument. Since the abrupt failure of the engine, there had been too many arguments and both were weary of them. 

The first had begun when Richard had caustically observed how he could have been nearly home on his bus journey by now had Camille not intervened. It was true, that the coast road was a longer, slower route but at least it would have got him home. Camille hadn’t needed to follow up her snort of derision with words to tell him how she felt about that. 

The second; was also sparked by Richard when he offered to try starting the engine, just in case it had been flooded when Camille had tried. An easy mistake to make. In Camille’s view, the only mistake she had made at that exact moment in time had been not to hit him.

Then Camille had climbed back out of the vehicle, lifting the bonnet and peering into the depths. Richard had offered to hold the torch he had found in the glove box and then, when it became apparent she didn’t know what was wrong, to take over. Both offers were turned down less than politely.

Next, when they had given up and seated themselves back inside, was the argument over keeping the windows shut and internal lights switched off to prevent the biting insects which every day of his life, Richard tried so hard to avoid and which had a definite preference for his blood. He had had to relent on the windows stance when the air became so hot and muggy that he felt he was having trouble breathing and the sweat began to drip down into his eyes. Camille had pointed out that he would be a great deal more comfortable taking his jacket and tie off but this suggestion had up to now been ignored.

It was stalemate.

Camille’s brain flitted from listening out for the nighttime sounds of the tropical forest around her to imagining how the evening could have gone had she only stayed in her seat at the bar, sharing a beer with her mother. From remembering her teenage years with Tiny and many other friends she had lost touch with over the years to idly calculating the odds of another driver knowing the maze of graveled roads as well as she and using this exact one this evening in time to prevent them spending the night here. 

Richard intruded into each and every one of her wandering thoughts and attempts to calm herself. 

She was quite sure that he would be able to identify the birdcall she had heard if only she was prepared to ask him. He would also; she had no doubts, be able to quote precise statistics of someone happening upon them. Despite her casual calculations, she really didn’t want to know that. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer. 

She also didn’t want to explore too deeply the reason she had passed up the opportunity of a pleasant evening spent with her mother and anyone else who popped by, most likely Dwayne. Nor why she had shrugged off Tiny’s offer of an arm to keep her warm back at the ice rink. She had never declined a friendly gesture like that in the past so what was different now? 

Richard. The name ran like tickertape behind her eyelids. 

She shifted uncomfortably, pulling a knee up against her chest and hugging it to her. Oh this was going to be a long night.

****************************

Richard let out a long breath, pulling at his tie to loosen it unobtrusively. Camille appeared to be lost in her thoughts, thank goodness. He didn’t want to argue anymore, no matter how unjust she had been. The situation was not of his making but nor would that fact solve the issue of them being stuck here.

He glanced across surreptitiously through the near darkness; noting a long leg pulled up against her chest, chin resting upon her knee and curls cascading luxuriously down her back. Somewhere close by, in the heavy plant covered interior of the island, he could hear what he thought was a brown trembler which had been calling on and off for a while now. He would have to look it up when he got home, whenever that might be, he grumbled to himself. 

Could he walk home more quickly than waiting for help he wondered. Neither of them had a phone signal and the absence of any other vehicles on the road would suggest they would be here longer than he wanted to be. The problem with walking wasn’t the distance; walking long distances didn’t phase him. But not knowing where they were did. At least twice in the last hour, he had attempted to mentally trace his steps back to the ice rink but the speed of Camille’s aggressive driving meant he hadn’t logged all the unsigned dirt tracks as they had sped past. His chances of success were he to set out alone was slim and to suggest anything to Camille about going together was an equally unpalatable option. Honestly, the blessed island was a maze. He might like puzzles but not in the dark with who knows what lurking about in the undergrowth. It didn’t bear thinking about. No better to stay here and suffer Camille’s silence. On a par with suffering her wrath he felt. 

Almost as if she had heard his final thoughts, she broke the quiet. “I really need a drink.”

Richards automatic retort to criticise her requirement for alcohol was luckily preempted by her qualification. “Water. Is the kit in the back?”

Richard shrugged. He knew that emergency essentials, a well stocked first aid kit, water, sugary snacks and a couple of blankets were required to be in the Land Rover at all times, and that Fidel was responsible for their inspection. During his first few months on the island he had re-checked everything; not knowing his junior officers well enough to trust them and knowing it was ultimately his responsibility. But as respect for his team had grown, he had relaxed somewhat and they had yet to let him down. 

Camille shuffled around in her seat, dislodging the cushion she usually sat on when driving to the floor. Kneeling on the seat, she peered through into the darkness of the back seat, then adjusted and leant through between the two front seats. 

Richard glanced across reflexively as her hip grazed his shoulder, the curve of her bottom a dark shape mere inches from his face. He gulped and turned back to stare resolutely through the front windscreen.

“Richard, turn on the light. I can’t see if it’s here,” her muffled voice requested.

Richard hesitated. If he lifted his left arm to flick the switch on the roof then he would have to lean closer to her to do so, his right arm, and the minor contact his shoulder was making with her hip could only increase. Would it feel like a caress? What would she say, would she even notice?

“Richard?” Camille took the decision out of his hands, twisting her body around to glare at him. He could see the glinting in the whites of her eyes even through the night. The movement took her bottom in the opposite direction giving him the freedom to move unencumbered.

“Yes, right. Sorry.” Reaching swiftly up to tap the switch he took a much needed breath and then almost choked on it when she immediately turned back around, her body once more pressing into his and the illumination revealing long slim legs disappearing beneath brief shorts. Up close they were flawless, and even more distracting than from his usual day-to-day viewpoint across the office. 

“Got it!” Camille’s triumphant cry startled him, his eyes catching hers briefly before he looked away. If she had seen him staring, she gave no indication of it as she scrambled back through into her seat clutching the bottle of water in her hand. Despite her lack of reaction, guilt flooded through him. He respected women; respected her. He didn’t want her thinking less of him because he gawped like a randy teenager. 

He listened to the twist of the plastic top as she unscrewed it slowly, forcing himself not to look around as she gulped the precious liquid down. Reaching upwards once more, the press of a finger plunged them back into the dark.

Oh this was going to be a long night.


	6. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys. Cant seem to write my thoughts/ideas down properly!
> 
> This is my attempt to get the story moving again. Hope you like it.
> 
> Any more guesses about my fav tv program. It was actually a 90's show and like all the best shows, the main leads (best characters) left after the first three series. Anyway - enough about that!

Condensation dripped from the windscreen.

Camille leant forward to wipe it, the drips tickling as they ran between her fingers and down the back of her arm towards her elbow.

The moon had risen and she lifted her hand to watch the progress of one of the droplets, shimmering in the bluey light as it gently made its way over the boney prominence of her wrist.

Beyond her arm, the dark outline of her boss could be seen. She focused on his stubborn position, turned towards the window but obviously uncomfortable as he shifted and wriggled every now and then.

As her anger had waned, she had returned to thinking about and attempting to work out how far across the island they had come. Despite her excellent knowledge of the roads, she had been so cross, had been so concerned with trying to cause Richard distress that she had driven on autopilot. It was possible, or even probable that she would work out the way to walk if they set out on foot. The problem with that was leaving the Defender. However old and well used it was, they couldn't afford another on their current budget and petty crime, even in this isolated location, was a real enough threat for her to come to the conclusion that they ought to stay put till the morning at least.

She frowned at the passing thought that being found now, or walking out to get help would feel somehow disappointing.

Richard shifted again, grunting in discomfort.

"Richard." She attempted to catch his attention softly.

He stilled but made no move to look at her. She could almost visualise his ears pricking like a rabbits and the thought made her smile.

"Richard turn around," a soft request but firm and in a tone he must have recognised since he slowly shifted around in his seat to face her. Camille twisted to mirror his posture, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

"You really can't spend the whole night buttoned up like that. At least take off your tie."

Richard appeared rooted to his seat. The near darkness hid his expression but she caught the shine of his eyes as they widened when her gesturing became a more purposeful movement towards him.

She fumbled a little with the knot, ignoring the tension in Richards body and cursing a little before it eased and she could pull it softly away. She smoothed it absently through her hands as she wondered what to do with it then Richard reached out a hand suddenly to claim it, fingertips brushing hers and both dropped the tie as if scalded.

A charged silence filled the car before Richard apologised gruffly and picked up the fallen tie, rolling it neatly and placing it in his jacket pocket. Camille took a breath and extended her hands towards him once more, halting when he pushed himself firmly back away from her and against the window.

"I was only going to…." She motioned in an exasperated manner towards his still done top button.

"Yes. Erm, well I can do that." He flicked the top button open easily with a thumb and forefinger and breathed out unsteadily.

"What are you afraid of?" The words were out of her mouth before she had chance to catch them and they hung in the air threateningly between them.

"Nothing." He sounded defensive.

"No, seriously. What are you afraid of?"

"Camille, not now." Less defensive, more obstinate now.

"Not now or not ever? Do you even know what you're afraid of?" She watched him shrug in the near darkness.

He was not going to say anymore on the subject, she knew him well enough to recognise when the barriers were going up but she felt an almost desperate need to keep pushing him. He frustrated her so much. Instead she released a terse breath and shifted noisily back around in her seat, crossing her arms resolutely and glaring out of the windscreen. There was nothing else to say. What did they have to say to one another?

***************

Sleep came slowly. Each uncomfortable shuffle, each twist and turn of a limb and sigh or throat clearance disturbed the other. The bucket seats didn't help. Nor did the attempts of both to keep themselves entirely to their side of the vehicle, without so much as an elbow straying over the central area.

Richard had purposefully not checked his watch but as his eyelids finally began to droop felt sure light must soon be creeping up over the horizon. His body gave into a restless sleep filled with images of hundreds of pairs of long toned legs crossing and uncrossing themselves, of stocking garbed limbs parading down catwalks and beneath full skirts and petticoats whilst performing the can can in ice skates.

His first feeling on awaking to the grey half-light of dawn was an enormous relief the dreams were simply dreams, followed by a hazy glow. Despite the discomfort of the Defender, and on so little sleep he felt strangely comfortable.

Coming slowly to his senses he realised the wonderful warmth was emanating from his shoulder and chest, and as something gently prickled his face his senses went into overdrive. He opened an eye to peer down on dark curls, too close to focus upon. Camilles face was burrowed into him, both of her arms tucked around one of his, as if to keep him by her. For his part he was leaned well into the space between the two seats, and as he reached his free hand up to rub his tickly face he could feel the indents of her hair on his cheek. They had obviously been in that position a while.

He hesitated, caught between the horror of ending up in such a compromising position with the palpable feeling of pleasure rushing through his body. Despite being so wrong in every way, he was unable to deny to himself in those few moments between sleep and wake how right it felt.

Camille stirred, her face pressing into his neck and sending shivers up his spine.

He closed his eyes tightly as she came to, feeling her soft exhalations against his skin, hearing the short hiccup that followed as she became aware of her position nestled into him. She gently unwound her arms and shuffled herself upward in her seat, back away from him. His body mourned the loss of contact, another wave of tremors running through him.

Slowly, he unwound his shoulders, then rubbed his hands across his eyes. By the time he dared open them fully and look across at her, she was climbing out of the Land Rover.


	7. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had an enjoyable festive season.
> 
> Am stubbornly going to remain in my little bubble. As much as I liked Humphrey Goodman (which surprised me), he is NOT Richard.

A fortnight later Camille sat glumly at her desk brooding. 

She knew she was brooding, and by the looks she was getting from Dwayne, he knew she was brooding too and was warily maintaining a careful distance. 

Richard? Richard was MIA again……

It was pretty clear to her where he was; she could just imagine the slightly smug expression on his face as he fastened the buttons on his jacket to ward off the chill and leant back in a plastic seat to watch skaters perform their loops of the rink. 

That he was doing his job effectively without shirking, giving his team some breathing space away from his daily grumbles about the weather whilst still allowing himself some time for enjoyment outside of work ought to be making Camille happy. If it were Fidel finding some new hobby that he looked forward to as much as his Police work then she would be glad for him. 

Instead she was brooding.

She couldn’t quash the gut feeling that the coolness of the rink wasn’t the entire reason he continued to make the uncomfortable journey across the island on a fairly regular basis. And as much as she tried to tell herself that what her gut told her was not scientific fact, she knew it had a tendency to be right. 

The thought of Richard trying to work on an evidence based study of her gut reactions, calculating variability and percentiles and all the other statistics he was so fond of quoting would once have been enough to make her chuckle all afternoon. But that had been before she had spent a night in a car with him. Before she had woken up surrounded by his male fragrance – she was sure she could still smell it on her skin sometimes. 

It had felt unsettlingly comfortable waking up in her boss’ arms which, mixed up with all the angry emotions following their argument may have been the reason she felt so strange now. 

Walking down the road in the soft, subdued light of dawn, she had busied herself with understanding their location. Richard had followed her out of the vehicle but had thankfully lingered behind, seemingly unsure whether to stay with the Land Rover or to join his colleague. Twenty minutes of walking ten yards apart later, they had arrived at a junction Camille recognised. One that fortuitously had a car upon it which she had flagged down and given instructions to. 

By the time they had walked back in silence, carefully shared the remaining bottled water and used the side windows to check hair and clothing were tucked in place, Dwayne had arrived with Joe, Honore’s mechanic on his tow truck and they could distract themselves with hooking up the Land Rover and avoiding Dwayne’s pointed remarks and innuendo. 

If Camille had spent any time thinking about it that day, she would have fondly imagined that life would go back to normal after their little adventure. Richard at his desk moaning about the heat, her teasing him, or berating him once her patience ran out; the two of them spending their days, and some evenings talking through cases, bouncing ideas off one another and sharing them with their team. 

That wasn’t how the last two weeks had played out. 

Dwayne was frustrated that there was still no sign of the thieves and tired from pounding the beat on his own. She supposed the fact that one of his latest lady friends had been a victim was piling the pressure on him to get a result. Fidel had tried his best to return to work but Juliet really needed him at home so close to giving birth. She had had a difficult second pregnancy. Richard in the end had ordered him to stay at home until they could find help from an alternative source, or until Juliet had the baby and felt able to cope alone, whichever came first. 

Which left, when he was in the office, Richard and Camille skirting around each other warily. No teasing. No moaning. No arguments. 

The whole thing had left her feeling confused and even slightly nauseous. They had been asleep for heavens sake and she had been in plenty of more compromising situations in the past with both men and women!

The opening of the rink had gone smoothly. Tiny had been excellent in his role as manager, had practiced his speech till it tripped off the tongue fluidly. The Commissioner had cut the ribbon with a beaming smile and everyone had enjoyed the ice show. They had managed to find a professional ice dance pair, one of whom had been born on St Marie before moving as a young child to San Francisco. Thanks to good advertising and Tiny’s hard work, crowds of locals and holidaymakers alike had flocked to watch them perform a graceful interpretation of Cinderella’s first dance with, and then subsequent flight from, the Prince as the clock chimed twelve. With the lights down low and a spotlight rigged up especially for the occasion, it made for a poignant scene and Camille found herself blinking stray tears from the corner of her eyes, hoping no-one had noticed. 

Catherine had made the journey across the Island with Fidel and Juliet, who had been determined not to miss _“the biggest event in a long time, even if I have the blessed child on the ice!”_ Her mother looked far too excited at the sight of the rather handsome looking instructor, announcing that she might sign up for some lessons. _Get to the back of the queue_ had been Camille’s initial response, eyeing up the swarm of enthusiastic females surrounding the man. 

Unusually, considering how he felt about these sorts of public service events, Richard had been on good form. One could even have described him as sociable that day. He had obviously spoken to Tiny about his true identity given the ribbing she had had from her old friend, and the two of them had been in deep discussions about something. An odd pairing she had thought and left them to it, escaping soon after by offering Fidel and Juliet a lift home. The others had stayed on till late arriving home on one of the free minibuses that had been laid on to ferry people home. 

“Hello? Camille?” Catherine appeared at the door, dragging her daughter’s eyes away from the empty chair opposite her, and back to the present. 

“Maman?”

“Dwayne here suggests I take you out for the afternoon.” Catherine smiled across at her conspirator who grinned in response. 

“But I’m at work Maman, and I……” she broke off as her mother leveled a look at her. As only mothers can. 

“Dwayne?” The older woman maintained her gaze upon Camille as she spoke. 

“Yup?”

“Are you busy today?”

“Nope.”

“Would you be able to man the fort alone?”

“I think so.”

“And if something happens?”

“I could ring Camille’s mobile.”

“Lovely.” Catherine smiled once more. “So Ma Cherie, are you ready?” 

Camille sighed, gathered her bag and followed her mother out of the station. 

-888-

 

Not for the first time, Richard wished they had built the ice rink much closer to Honore. He was truly grateful that one had made it to the Caribbean at all but felt life would be an awful lot easier were it round the corner from home. 

He was uncomfortably aware too, that the distance and the discomfort of the buses were not the only reasons he wished it were closer. For one, he couldn’t get away from work often enough and the times he could were alas noticeable to the rest of his team. He had also noticed that the heat of the Island felt worse on the days he had spent time in the ice cool atmosphere. Which really wasn’t fair. 

And then there was Camille.

Walking down the Main Street in the darkness, head down lost in his contemplations; he walked straight into his DS, narrowly missing her mother. His hands shot out by reflex to steady himself, and her, before realising who it was. He released her waist as if seared, stepping back a pace and apologising. 

Camille heard her mother bite back an amused chuckle as she responded. 

“It’s fine Sir, don’t worry.”

Silence descended. Catherine paused a moment, looking from one Detective to the other, and then smoothly struck up conversation. “What a lovely evening it is for a walk…don’t you think Richard?”

“It is beautiful, yes.” Richard answered, eyes darting uneasily between the street and Camille. 

“And are you…?”

“On my way home? Yes. Just got off the bus.” He replied politely, cursing to himself as it increased the likelihood of further discussions along that topic.

“So how do you find our Islands bus service Richard?”

“Hot!”

“And crowded I should imagine.”

“You don’t know, the half of it!” he groused, the desire to rant overcoming his reticence about his outings. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it were only people, but honestly! The number of chickens and goats on there is ridiculous. It shouldn’t be allowed. Someone actually tried to bring his donkey on board the other day…would have if I hadn’t been there.” 

Camille shuffled, tracing circles in the dirt road with her pumps. Catherine glanced at her daughter and then back to Richard. “So perhaps now the Defender is back in service, Camille could drive you where you need to go?” She watched the pair; their eyes dancing to one another and away again without making contact, and not for the first time wondered what exactly had happened that night on the road. 

“Erm, yes, well. Maybe.” Richard cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to….” He gestured down the road towards his shack with a hand. 

“Of course. Goodnight Richard.” Catherine bade him goodnight, her daughter mumbling her farewells alongside.

Richard nodded and set off down the road, not resisting the impulse to turn and look behind him after a few steps. Camille had not yet moved and was standing facing in his direction, although the darkness hid the direction of her gaze. As he watched, her mother called and her posture altered, startled into movement. She spun lightly on her feet and walked away. 

Dammit, yet another dream filled sleep awaited him.


	8. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday to everyone who is still with me on this. Please let me know what you’re thinking– any form of critique gratefully received.  
> P.S. I hope all the Richard fans out there (are there any non Richard fans???) enjoy the shower scene.

With a last twist of the wrist, Richard stopped the flow of water. Paltry as it was, he enjoyed his morning showers, before the heat of the day built up and the noise and bustle of the Island accosted every sense. Before he had time to negotiate another day with Camille. 

The last few weeks had not been easy, their communication almost non-existent and with the new developments, he feared it was about to get worse. She wouldn’t like the fact he had hidden things from her. 

Closing his eyes tightly, he shook his head sending water droplets flying in all directions. Maybe it was better to be sure he tried to convince himself. She wasn’t exactly rushing to spend time with him at the moment so it wasn’t as difficult as it might have been to keep her in the dark. 

He rolled his shoulders and then unhurriedly reached out for a towel, relishing the cool feeling of the water drying on his skin. He still didn’t understand quite what had happened to alter their relationship. Camille had become his best friend, a rare occurrence in his life to date and he missed their chats, her rolling her eyes at him and persuading him to behave in a way he was unused to – usually way outside his comfort zone. Like being able to admit to himself that he had a best friend and that she was it. The opening of the ice rink and their night on the road together appeared to have changed all that and he didn’t know how to go back, how to reconstruct the friendship they had built up without succumbing to the vivid dreams he kept having or acknowledging the leaps his heart gave when she walked into a room. 

He sighed, rubbed the towel once across his thinning hair then carefully folded it over the rail to dry and crossed the room to dress. 

-888888888-

“Dwayne? A word please.” Richard hung up the phone he had been quietly listening to and inclined his head towards the verandah. 

“Sure.” Dwayne nodded, following his boss outside. 

Camille frowned. There was only the three of them there so what could he possibly have to say to Dwayne that he couldn’t say to her. She threw the pen she had been chewing at the desk crossly, watching it bounce and hit the floor to shatter into pieces with some satisfaction. 

Glancing in the direction her colleagues had taken, she hesitated then quietly eased herself out of her seat, temptation too great. She sauntered around Dwayne’s desk, grabbing a sheet of fingerprints from a newly solved investigation so as not too look too suspicious, and edged towards the open doorway. The two men were bent over Richards phone, the DI pointing out something to Dwayne and him replying with a bob of his head. 

Leaning closer she could just make out the end of their discussion. “Right. In that case I shall be out for the remainder of the day,” he hesitated. “Would you. Er. Let Camille know that I can be contactable by phone.”

“Don’t you want to fill her in Sir?”

“No time. I’ll do that later.” Richard was evasive, backing off toward the steps. 

Camille crossed her arms and clenched her teeth, anger rising to push the hurt feeling aside. Walking back through the door, Dwayne bowled straight into her and picking up swiftly on her mood, raised both hands in a placating gesture. 

“Sorry Camille, but you need to talk to the Chief. 

She growled her disgusted response, about to storm after Richard when the phone on her desk began to ring and slamming down the now crumpled fingerprint report on Dwayne’s desk, she marched back to her desk to answer the caller curtly. 

-8888888888-

 

Two hours later, necessary work completed, Camille’s thoughts returned to her boss. She was sick to death of this. Of his mixed signals and her part in their joint avoidance of the subject. Of thinking about him all the time and feeling angry and disappointed at the end of each day. She was sick of it and was going to do something about it. 

Leaving a note for Dwayne who had popped out to buy lunch, she gathered bag and keys and headed out. 

-888888888888-

 

“Catherine?”

“Bonjour! C’est Moi.”

“It’s Dwayne. Are you busy?”

“Not really, quiet day so far. Is everything alright?”

“How do you fancy a trip across the Island?”

“Answering a question with a question……intriguing!”

“Camille’s charged off after Richard again.”

“Pick me up in five minutes. I’ll be ready.”

“Er….Catherine….”

“Yes?”  
“She took the Land Rover.”

Catherine let out a deep sigh. “I’d better go and find a scarf then.”

“Promise I’ll drive carefully.” Dwayne grinned then hung up the phone, checked his handcuffs were attached to his belt and went to find the helmets.

-88888888888-

 

Camille could not believe what she was seeing. She looked at the ground, rubbed her eyes then directed them back up again. The image before her was still there and she still couldn’t believe it. 

Was this the need for secrecy? And the reason Tiny had delayed her at the door until she had finally lost patience and almost rudely pushed past him, flashing her badge authoritatively at the young woman who had asked to see her ticket inside. 

The rink was quiet, unsurprising given the time of day. Only two people currently occupied it, skating gracefully in and out of cones forwards and then backwards across the ice. 

As she hovered by the partially open door to the auditorium a loud whisper alerted her to the imminent arrival of her mother. “Camille.”

She turned to see her mother removing a motorcycle helmet from her scarf-covered hair, handing it to Dwayne, who passed it onward to an acquiescing Tiny who was flanking him. This day was getting weirder and weirder. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked in hushed tones.

“We could ask you the same question.” Her mother retorted good-naturedly. 

“Never mind that – have you seen this?” She gestured with a hand watching the three of them lean around her to look and noting their lack of surprise, which they were not bothering to hide. 

“Impressive!” Dwayne nodded approvingly. 

“Am I the only one around here who didn’t know?”

Catherine, recognising her manner, laid a placating hand on her daughters arm but Camille shrugged it off angrily. “I am! Why the hell am I suddenly in the dark here and since when did he start sharing stuff with all of you? I thought……”

“Perhaps it’s Richard you should be talking to darling.” Catherine interrupted in a gentle voice. 

“Ah!” Camille peered past her mother to Tiny who was sporting an expression of comprehension. “It’s like that then!”  
“What?” she snapped crossly. “” What’s like what?”

Heeding the nudge in the ribs from Dwayne, Tiny closed his mouth and looked down at the helmets in each hand. “Look, the ice is going to be pretty quiet until six-ish, so it won’t look odd if we keep any public who turn up waiting a while. How about I look the other way whilst you go have a chat with your DI over there.” He eyed Dwayne, in full uniform, up and down. “Don’t take all night though, three cops in the place at once is not good for business!”

“But?” Camille had too many questions, but was stopped by Dwayne thanking Tiny, and then, with the help of Catherine, ushering her through the doors and up to the edge of the rink.


	9. Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kind reviews so far. Hope you enjoy this. I really need help with my titles though!!

_Oh God._ Richard looked up and groaned at the sight of his Officer, his Detective Sergeant and her mother, the swing doors into the arena crashing shut behind them. Camille didn’t look happy and his stomach gave a cowardly roll as he internally accepted that her anger might be justified. He should have known this would happen. What had he been thinking of?

And where was Tiny? He looked around the large open space, assessing, and then decided now was as good a time as any to face the music approaching the three of them at the edge of the rink. 

He may not be the best at reading people but Camille’s stance was unmistakable, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her chest. It was a stark contrast to her companions who appeared to be enjoying the scene. He looked down, bracing his body for an onslaught and then, when none came, raised his eyes towards hers. She was still looking at him silently; some anger evident in her guise but also creeping into her expression was what he thought could be…was it hurt?

Richards stomach lurched again. Hurting her was the very last thing he wanted to do. All his protective instincts were going into overdrive. This was awful, how could he make it better?

“Show us your moves Boss?” Dwayne was stood behind Camille, hadn’t seen her change of expression. He watched Catherine nudge her companion discreetly in the ribs and interjected gently before anyone else could comment.

“No. Not now Dwayne. I think I owe Camille an explanation.”

Camille blinked rapidly, opened her mouth to speak, then simply nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the small cafeteria. “You can buy me a cup of tea.”

“Oh I wouldn’t, it’s awful here…..” he would have said more had he not noticed her eyes thin once more. “Erm, yes. Of course.”

“Dwayne? If you would be so kind as to escort me, I would love to see the shop.” Catherine smiled. “I need to plan my wardrobe before my skating lesson next week.” She hooked her arm through the younger mans and pulled him away leaving Richard to stumble over his words as he asked the woman in front of him if she would wait whilst he collected his wallet from his briefcase, safely stored in the lockers.

88888888888

“So?” 

Safely ensconced in the cafeteria, Camille cradled a hot chocolate decorated with a flourish of squirty cream between her hands and briefly cast her mind back to the last hot chocolate she had drunk, drawing a blank. Some time in Paris she assumed.   
She looked across at Richard, sipping disconsolately from his glass of tepid water and faintly smiled, knowing he was craving her Mothers tea. 

“I’m sorry.”

There it was again. Camille attempted to swallow the rapidly building lump in her throat. Twice in the last few minutes, two….what were they? Requests for absolution? Apologies? It was so unlike Richard, especially when aimed directly at her. Their relationship usually involved fighting fire with fire. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this.

“You skate well.”

Richard blushed profusely at the compliment. “Yeah well, I….”

Camille sighed. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

888888888

 

“I’m actually working on a case.”

His DS looked visibly taken aback. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. He glanced over his shoulder at the empty tables and chairs, and then leant forward to explain.

“You know Dwayne’s thieves?”

“Yes?”

“Well we think…..”

“We?” Her comment, accompanied by an arched eyebrow made him hesitate. He chose to plough on and ignore the implication.

“We think that they have found a new favourite location to work from.”

“What - in here? But how do they manage that? Surely the changing rooms have staff on duty all the time and there’s only one exit.”

“Well it’s pretty simple really. And it would be even simpler to prevent if people weren’t so bloody stupid these days.”

Camille folded her arms and leant back abruptly in her chair as if suddenly cross again with him. “Well I must be one of those stupid people because I haven’t figured it out yet so are you going to enlighten me?”

Richard frowned. “What springs to mind when you imagine an ice rink?”

Camille thought for a second. “Frosty Christmas evenings, the smell of Vin Chaud and children laughing?”  
“No. Try indoors.”

“Russian Ice dancers? Men in tight sequined leggings?”

“No!” He was loosing patience now. Was she being intentionally obtuse? “And what do you mean Russian Ice Dancers? What about Torvill and Dean? Robin Cousins? John Currie? True world greats.”

“Pphhht!”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, refocusing. “Ok. Picture a Saturday afternoon in a local ice rink. Crowds of people, all ages and backgrounds with far less ability than their confidence merits….”

“Well not everyone can be….” She cut in curtly but broke off when he immediately countered. 

“Yes they could. They could take proper lessons.” Richard continued rapidly to avoid her complaining any further. “Basically there are lots of people skidding and sliding all over the place, bumping onto one another, falling over, helping one another up…..and then combine that with peoples insatiable appetite for keeping their mobile phones about their person at all times lest, God forbid something happens somewhere in the World without their knowledge. Either that or they are busily recording every trip and fall of precious little Johnny for posterity.”

Understanding dawned across Camilles face as he spoke. “They’re being fingered on the ice?”

Richard almost choked. “I’m not sure that the phrase I would have chosen but yes. Most of the time they don’t realise until they go back to their locker, then assume it’s in the car, or left on the bus and by the time they report it to the rink, Tiny can’t do a thing about it.”

“And you thought that….”

“I thought that over here, where I am less well known, I could get on the ice without being conspicuous and might be able to see something.”

“Well it explains the rather relaxed attire at least.”

Richard glanced down at the dark arran jumper he wore over a tieless white shirt. “First time I’ve been able to wear it since I got here!” he admitted ruefully.

Camille leant forward, brow creasing. “But it still doesn’t….”

He knew what was coming and for possibly the first time ever, was relieved to see Catherine approaching the table. He pushed himself up into standing and pulled his mouth into a smile, avoiding Camilles huff of disappointment. “Catherine.”

“I’ve worn Dwayne out with looking at all the clothing and Tiny looks jumpy about the presence of uniform so I came to see how you were getting on.”

“Yes, well I think Camille is all up to speed.” Richard risked a look at her, wanting affirmation. She half smiled at her mother. He thought it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Dwayne wandered over, a considered expression on his face. “I’ve been thinking Chief.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. 

“It’s a little obvious you don’t need lessons and if you are going to keep coming here regularly you are going to need a better cover story.”

“We discussed this. I haven’t got the correct accreditation to teach and people ask to see your qualifications these days.” Richard shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. “

“But if you told them you were a Police Officer?” Catherine enquired.

“Then the Gossip network would probably ensure the whole island would know before I could get back to Honore. No. The fewer people that know, the better.”

Dwayne waited patiently for his boss to finish. “But what if you taught Camille?”

Richards mouth dropped open, his brain suddenly devoid of words. The chair opposite screeched back as Camille rose noisily.

“No! No way!” she blurted walking out of the café before anyone else spoke.


	10. Admissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> So Camille’s character decided to take me down a path I didn’t expect in this chapter. I read back and think her comments on the subject are obtuse enough that I have got away with it but please tell me if you disagree, and I will have words with her. ;-)
> 
>  Katedf and Kas - thank you so much for your encouragement and reviews. Katedf...be patient and he might tell us soon. ;-)

Richard wasn’t sure how long it took for his brain to start producing coherent words and thoughts again. When the cogs started whirring, images of dancing on the ice with Camille filled the inner lining of his eyelids. Pulling her to him, twirling her around him in graceful flowing movements. 

Pretending, he corrected himself firmly. He was pretending to teach her and that was assuming she agreed in the first place. Was she a good skater? He mused. 

“It’s a good idea.” Catherine spoke.

“Not sure your girl agrees.” Dwayne nodded at the still swinging door, the corners of his mouth quirking knowingly despite his words. 

“Oh give her time. She’ll calm down.” She smiled, and then grimaced as realisation struck. “Camille has the car!”

“Damn!” The bus ride had been particularly long, hot and unpleasant today and the thought had occurred to Richard that the silver lining to his team following him had been the possibility of a faster ride home. 

His rarely expressed expletive had his companions briefly staring at him then the three of them rose, following the direction Camille had taken moments before. 

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Fully expecting to be faced with an empty car park, Richard was surprised to see the Defender sat in a parking space, Camille’s dark head, just evident, resting atop her hands on the steering wheel. 

He glanced across at Dwayne who raised both hands, understanding what his boss was wanting. “Hey man. I’ve done my bit.”

Richard turned back to look at Catherine who merely shook her head with a kindly expression and gestured him forwards with her hands so he took a deep breath, and then stepped towards the Defender, stirring strong memories of the last time they had got into this vehicle together in this car park. 

Leaning forward, he gently rapped on the glass of the passenger side window to gather her attention, before opening the door a foot. 

“I suppose you want a lift back to Honore?”

He frowned, couldn’t work out the tone in her voice. “Erm. Well, yes please.”

“Well get in then.” She raised her voice. “Maman! Are you coming?”

Dwayne, stood with Catherine a few steps away from the Land Rover looked at his friend. “You could always ride back in style with me?”

Catherine hesitated, weighing up her options then shook her head.” No thank you Dwayne. I will rely on my daughter and Richard here to see me home safely.”

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The drive back across the island was quiet if not peaceful. Catherine attempted to exchange a few pleasantries, without much success whilst Richard sat focused on his hands in the back. Having caught Camille’s eyes twice in the rearview mirror sending an embarrassed heat rushing through his body, he felt it was better to wait until she decided or wanted to speak. 

That decision came much later in the evening. Richard had been delivered home, had showered and changed into his pajamas and was tidying up Harry’s mashed mango and bug supper, sighing occasionally and slanting looks at his mobile as if it held all the answers. No new e-mails, texts or missed phone calls. 

The knock on the window frame caught him by surprise, more so when it was accompanied by a pensive looking Camille. 

He directed her in with a tilt of his head but she stayed hovering on the threshold. 

“It really is the most obvious solution isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Well I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re an excellent Police Officer.” Richard caught her faint smile at his unthinking compliment. 

“Thing is…..”

“Yes?” he questioned, wondering at her unusual hesitations. 

“I hate the ice.”

“What?” Her words did not immediately compute.

“I…..” 

He cut off her attempted reiteration. “But you described skating in Paris?”

“I described the sights and sounds around me. Concentrated on the beauty, not my own feelings taking part.” She breathed heavily, turning to sit on the top step, her gaze unfocused on the black ocean ahead of her. 

Richard looked down at himself, then grabbed the days discarded work shirt to sit on and joined her on his verandah.

Camille spoke without looking at him. “I’m not very good at skating. The thought of falling on that cold hard surface and then someone slicing my fingers off terrifies me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well it’s not difficult…” she snapped back.

“No, I mean…..” He looked across at her, her skin soft in the night’s shadows, hands clasped together and thick dark hair cascading down her back. She was letting him in; needed his help. Not with just the usual chitchat and worries for the day but about things that were personal to her. His heart missed a beat but he swallowed hard and continued. “What I mean to say is you seem to be so talented. I didn’t think that there was anything you couldn’t do.” 

She turned to look at him, her eyes shiny. “Thank you Richard,” she whispered.

His sentence seemed to be enough for now. He smiled shyly back, holding her gaze until a skittering behind; Harry or some nocturnal bird, he wasn’t sure, returned him to the present. Clearing his throat he braced his hands on his knees and pushed up into standing. 

“I can help if you’ll let me.”

She nodded, standing up herself, stealing a look behind him at the half open door then backing down a step towards the beach. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Camille.”

Richard moved inside, closing the doors slowly as he watched the graceful silhouette pick her way along the shoreline until she faded into the dark.

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Fingers fumbling, Camille cursed as she failed for the second time to tie a bow in the skating boots Tiny had silently handed her. Awkward and restrictive with the large shiny blade glinting beneath, she loathed them. Almost as much as she loathed everyone who thought this was a good idea.

“They look good on you.”

She pulled her head up to glare through her hair at her DI who was stood in front of her, then tempered her gaze. It wasn’t his fault and he was trying so hard to make her feel comfortable.

“They don’t feel it,” she grumbled.

“Look at it this way, the height and rigidity of them will protect your ankles and at least they won’t smell as bad as normal hire boots.”

“But the place has only just opened. Surely all the boots are as good as new?”

“Don’t you believe it, it only takes one customer with less than decent hygiene!”

Camille wrinkled her nose. It didn’t bear thinking about. Finishing the bow, she put her hands on her knees and inhaled.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

Richard reached a hand out to clasp hers, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get you skating then.”

Caught up in the feeling of his broad hand holding hers firmly, and the expectation that any minute now he would let go, her hobbling walk from the changing area to the ice went unnoticed. Richard didn’t hesitate as the surface changed, merely moved forward determinedly sliding an arm around her back to grasp her waist and hold her to him lest she fell.

A pleasant shiver ran between her shoulder blades and the thought ran through her mind that he must have been spending time reading self help books such was the surety of his behavior. Remaining silent, Richard guided her on long loops of the rink. Camille’s head was spinning, adrenaline pumping. She was caught between the stress of the unfamiliar slipperiness of the surface beneath her and her bambi-like uncoordinated movements upon it, and the feelings and physical reactions that the proximity of her boss was inducing within.

He was skating much more slowly than when she had followed him here the day before, had it been only yesterday? Yet he glided across the ice so smoothly. If she had not felt so hurt that he hadn’t told her of his hidden skill then she would surely have spent time just watching him. Her hatred of the activity had never extended to the point where she couldn’t admire those who had a mastery of it. 

She could feel his grace transmitted to her through their joined hips, his thighs flexing and relaxing against her as they moved. She remained pinned tightly to him by the strength of his arm around her waist and their right hands joined in front.

He made her feel safe……and a million other emotions that she wasn’t sure she ought to be experiencing. When had that happened? It was true that he had dominated her thoughts for months now, but often anger and impatience had been the dominant feeling, followed by a mild triumphalism when he responded to her friendly flirting. 

On the ice, here and now; him looking after her as she had only ever seen him do with victims during their work before now, no hesitance or shyness evident. And despite her knowledge that he hadn’t yet told her why she had been kept in the dark about the case, she was willing to confess that anger was not one of the myriad of sensations flooding through her body. 

Nor fear of the ice.


	11. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews again folks. I've been away a while but back with a new chapter.
> 
> I wanted to try and get this to those who are still here last week but didn't quite manage it. To make up for that I didn't cut the chapter where I originally intended to so you get a slightly longer read. Hope you enjoy!

Dwayne sauntered into La Kaz and perched himself on a bar stool, raising his chin in greeting to the owner across the far side of the room. 

She nodded back and gracefully negotiated the tables, dropping a hand briefly onto his shoulder as she passed him. “How are Fidel and Juliet?”

“Well, I think. Much happier now the heat has eased, at least Rosie is sleeping now. “

“Juliet must be due any day now.”

“Not that I want to know too much about these things but I think she is actually late.”

“Ah.” Catherine made a moue with her mouth. “Poor girl. I was late with Camille. It’s not fun.”

“Speaking of Camille….”

Catherine quirked an eyebrow.

“She’s having another lesson.” Dwayne smirked as his confidant immediately glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Is the rink even open at this time?”

“Nope.” He shook his head triumphantly. “Special dispensation.”

“So they’re unlikely to be catching any criminals then…..”

He beckoned her closer and she leant over the table towards him, her colourful scarf brushing across the wood noiselessly.

“Apparently the Chief wants to make sure she is comfortable on the ice. Enough that they would be able to keep an eye open for odd goings on without him worrying about her falling over when he turned his back.”

Catherine knew Dwayne had more to say. “And?”

“Well is she really that bad? I thought she used to go skating when she lived in Paris?”

She cast her mind back. “I know she went with a group of her friends but she never really said much about it.”

“She usually picks things up pretty quickly though.” 

Catherine acknowledged the compliment of her daughter with a nod. “So you think……?”

The Police officer waggled both eyebrows in response. “It’s certainly less tense around the office this week.”

“Oh I hope so Dwayne.” Catherine paused, then continued candidly. “He’s not who I would have picked for my child but she does appear to, what’s the saying, -have it bad!”

************************

“Camille!” Richard admonished, lacking any severity in his tone. 

This was the third lesson this week and she didn’t appear to be any closer to moving around the ice without support from either himself or the barrier. Not that he was complaining. The few hours they had spent together had been amongst the most special in his whole life. 

The first time he persuaded her onto the ice had been easy. He had been so focused on doing something to smooth the crease away that lined the centre of her forehead, on helping her overcome her fears as she had for him on so many occasions, that her closeness had barely registered. Only when evening came and he lay in the darkened hut halfway between sleep and wake did his brain relive every move made, every word spoken and every sense stimulated.

He knew that night, if he hadn’t before, that he had it bad. What he hadn’t worked out yet was what, if anything, to do about it.

After her shared confidence on his verandah, their relationship had once more taken a turn for the better. He hoped, and vowed never to return to the fortnight of tension he had experienced. If he was short on sleep and was having trouble separating his nighttime fantasies with their daytime reality then that was his problem. One he was pretty sure he should firmly keep to himself. She needed his strength and constancy and reassurances if she was going to make progress, which would then allow them to move on with the case. 

Looking across at her now, one hand clutching the barrier whilst the other attempted to tuck her wayward hair behind her ears. He smiled warmly.

“Ready for another try?”

“No.” She answered rapidly but without looking at him, offered her hand anyway.

Richard took it, stroking the backs of her knuckles with his thumb, and then gave a gentle tug to encourage her to let go of the barrier and head towards the middle of the empty rink. 

Tiny was waiting for the pair when they next stopped to rest. 

“You managed to let go of her hand yet?” he called out cheekily, closing his mouth rapidly as Camille glared at him and Richard flushed beet red. 

“It just takes time, practice and a bit of confidence.” The DI replied, hoping his colouring could be put down to the exertion. 

“Do we need to come off now?” Camille asked. 

It might be his imagination playing tricks upon him but Richard was certain she didn’t sound as hopeful as he might have expected.

“Nah, you’ll be ok for another half hour if you want. I just thought I’d better report in. I’ve had a phone call, another lady with a misplaced smartphone.”

The detectives exchanged a glance. The thieves were getting cocky now after so long without being caught. To their knowledge, they hadn’t repeatedly targeted a venue as often as this before. 

Richard cleared his throat. Tiny was right, he needed to let go of her hand. “Camille.”

“I know.”

“I realise it’s not fair to rush you, it’s just……”

“I said I know!” she snapped back.

Ignoring the tenor in her voice that hinted an argument was brewing, he opened his mouth to suggest a plan for furthering her independence, closing it rapidly as he watched her take matters into her own hands and swallowing the bubble of anxiety which gurgled up into his throat. 

With her face set in a determined grimace she had pushed strongly away from the side and with a combination of stumbling and sliding, was moving swiftly across the rink. There was little control over her movement and Richard pressed an involuntary hand to his mouth to stop himself calling out, praying she would reach the safety of the other side before the inevitable happened. 

She almost did.

Her hand reached out just as her feet slipped too far behind her centre of gravity and she fell hard and awkwardly, her head striking the edge of the barrier as she dropped. She gave a small squeal of pain. 

Richard was there in a second, skates skidding expertly to a halt by her side, worry clouding his face as Camille let out a high pitched, terrified scream. A totally alien noise as she pulled her outstretched hand in beneath her body.

“Are you hurt? Camille, are you ok?” He bent down beside her, his fingers hovering hesitantly an inch above her hair.

“Is she alright?” Tiny ran up and leapt over the barricade, landing lightly on two trainers on the ice at the other side of Camille who had not yet moved but now appeared to be crying.

Richard glanced up at him and shrugged, slowly withdrawing his hand. At least she was conscious and not screaming anymore.

As if to echo his thoughts, Tiny responded quietly. “I’ve never heard her make a sound like that before. Never.” He crouched down, stroking Camille’s shoulder gently for fear of causing pain. 

Richard scowled at the younger mans naturalness with physical contact but rapidly refocused on the woman on the ice as she shifted slightly, gulping down a sob. 

“We need to get her off the ice.” Tiny said to Richard before continuing to his school friend, “Honey, can you stand? Let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

Camille nodded her reply, satisfying Richard that Tiny was right and she was probably safe to move.

“C’mon then.” The tall man, tugged gently at her shoulder, reaching his other hand around her waist to half lift her up and off the ice, and they made their way slowly into the changing rooms, Richard following on anxiously behind.

Once sat on the bench Camille seemed calmer, sniffing every now and then but otherwise silent. Tiny announced he was going to get the medical kit, and dashed off, leaving the doors swinging behind him and the room quiet. 

“So where are you in pain?” Richard lowered himself onto his haunches before her, supporting his unsteady skate clad feet with a hand on the bench as his eyes travelled up and down her body. Her hair hung messily around her face; tear stains evident on her cheeks and her eyes red. He thought he could see a blue bump rising above her right eye but her hair was disguising it so he thought it best to wait until she told him. 

“She was only five.”

She spoke so quietly that he had to lean in closer to hear her.

“Who?”

“Eloise.” 

“Who was Eloise?” He gently prompted.

“The girl I maimed.”

“What?” The involuntary question tripped off his tongue, before he bit it and pursed his lips together tightly, determined to wait and listen.

“There was a big group of us used to hang about together, you know? Messing about, enjoying Paris all lit up with lights and stars, and frost. And Marc, my……..my partner at the time thought he could teach me to skate. So we got on the ice, and he wanted to show off I guess, he kept spinning me, and pulling me around at a hundred miles an hour, and it wasn’t my favourite thing to do but I was always up for a challenge so….” She shrugged. 

“Eloise was such a pretty little girl. Big blue eyes and brunette curls half way down her back. She was wearing a blue coat to match her eyes. I think she’d got it for Christmas.”

“And what happened?” 

“I was being whirled around and we got jostled from behind. I fell; knocked her flying. As she went down the blade on one of my skates managed to…… freak accident they said….not even sure how, the blades didn’t seem sharp enough……went clean through half her fingers. They had to amputate.” She let out a shaky breath.

Richard moved his hand across, resting it gently on her knee. 

“I can still hear her screaming.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He watched her blink back tears from her eyes.

“You see, logically I know you are right.” 

“But it wasn’t. Just a horrible accident.”

“I know. And I can see the beauty in ice skating. I enjoy watching it now but I don’t……I can’t ……”

“I get it. You don’t want to risk being in that position again. No matter how unlikely.”

“I was out of control and dangerous.” Camille smiled a soft sad smile at him, tilting her head. 

“So lets get you out of these boots and then have a look at your head.” Richard bent to un-knot the laces. “Ooooh, Ow.”

“What is it?” 

He rose slowly from his crouched position, waving away her concern as she moved with him. “Knees giving out on me. Be fine in a minute!”

As he stretched, he watched her sweep her hair back over her shoulder, seemingly only just aware of its untidy tangles around her face. The bump on her head was burgeoning, red and purple hues angrily staining her skin. He reached a hand out and softly stroked around it, convincing himself it was merely a bruise and she wasn’t going to keel over. Camille didn’t move, and he could feel her eyes upon him, observing him keenly with an odd expression on her face. 

He cleared his throat nervously, wondering what to say, focusing on work. “ We can work on another plan. They are hardly the criminals of the century after all and I don’t think it’s worth your discomfort or pain.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I think I need to have a rest tomorrow, but then we should try again. I’m not giving up and letting them get away with it……..what?”

Richard was aware he was staring at her, wide eyed in awe. She was wonderful. Determined and brave as well as beautiful and kind and funny, and simply wonderful. Without thinking he leant forward and kissed her softly. 

Camille started, a visible tremor running through her body and her eyes widened. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I mean…..” he stuttered, blushing profusely before she cut off his stumbling apology, pulling him into her and crushing their lips together.

His eyebrows reached his thinning hairline and his stomach flipped. He tried to grasp hold of a thought but couldn’t get further than the words don’t stop which had begun to echo around the void his brain normally occupied. Sensations broke over him one after another like waves on the beach; the tingle of her lips upon his, the scratchiness of her hair on his fingertips, the layers, too many layers of clothing compressed firmly between their bodies, and the impatience of her hands, finding their way beneath the jumper he was wearing. His heart was pounding.

Mouths opening and exploring, teeth nipping and tongues soothing they twirled blindly around, stumbling as Richard tripped over Camilles undone laces tumbling them, still entwined, backwards into the lockers. He was vaguely aware of the resultant crash of metal echoing through the quiet building, but the feeling of being able to press his body up against hers was intense and her throaty moan at the movement sent his blood racing south. 

As fast as it had started, it was over. 

Tiny came crashing though the swing doors chattering that he had called for an ambulance and it was on its way, to find them stood a metre apart from one another, breathing heavily. If he thought anything odd in that, then it wasn’t apparent to Richard. Without looking up from his study of the floor in front of his feet, he could hear the young manager encouraging Camille to sit back down whilst he inspected her head injury.

He felt hazy with emotion and slightly dizzy after Camille had pushed him back away from her so rapidly. Rubbing a hand over his hair, he tried to cast his mind over the last few minutes of his life but found he was having trouble focusing. Tiny had dropped something outside and sworn loudly. Had that happened? Had Camille heard that? 

The ambulance siren broke through his whirling thoughts. His bewilderment would have to wait.


	12. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reviewing - not making it easy for our pair. Sorry. :P

Through the remainder of the evening and on late into the night bewilderment turned into worry which led to him scolding himself followed by stress and then, finally, concern for Camille. 

Worry that he had overstepped the mark and performed an action, which was wholly inappropriate. Internal condemnations that he had so little control over his own will that he had allowed himself to take advantage of an injured colleague. Stress over the potential implications, and he had counted quite a few, and then concern that Camille might be more injured than was first apparent. After all, she had responded quite passionately to his clumsy kiss. Richard cringed, his body hot and cold all at once as his memory taunted him. 

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Despite Camille’s protestations, and her wide-eyed plea to Richard, which he hadn’t seen such was his intense study of the floor, the medics, encouraged by Tiny’s version of events, had insisted on transporting her to the hospital for observation. Her friend had evidently been worried about her since her mother was waiting impatiently by the front doors as the ambulance pulled up and two medics, a boy with a suspected broken leg and his father, Camille and Tiny all exited. Satisfying herself that her daughter was alive and not critical with a caressing hand over her hair and face, Catherine joined the group heading towards the examination cubicles. Camille could just imagine what they all looked like, this odd little entourage flanking the two patients in wheelchairs. She twisted around awkwardly, attempting to catch sight of her boss, who she was fairly sure would have followed in the Defender but she couldn’t see him. She sighed, resigning herself to a few hours of questions and lights shining in her eyes, and poking and prodding if she so much as dared to drift off to sleep. 

Where the hell was Richard? Damn Tiny and his timing. That kiss had been mind-blowing. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined…….

And he had made her feel so……..

It was certainly answering any and all the questions she had determinedly NOT been asking herself recently. 

Where was he?

“Are you allowed to drink yet darling?” Catherine popped her head around the curtained area. “If we’re here for a while then I was going to see what is on offer at this time of night.”

“Only water I think Maman. You go.”

Her mother nodded before disappearing to leave Camille working her way through the day’s events once more.

She couldn’t remember talking about Eloise to anyone before, she had buried it deeply within her to avoid the feelings of guilt and responsibility she had taken upon her shoulders, feelings which would sweep over her in waves in the middle of the night and steal into her dreams. The idea of getting back on the ice herself had pulled all the anxiety back towards the surface. 

Except when Richard held her, with the secure warmth of his hand in hers and the play of the surprisingly solid muscles in his thighs and abdomen as he cruised around the rink. He had made her feel safe. She couldn’t and would never be able to hurt anybody else whilst he was in control. 

And then tonight, when she felt at her worst with flashbacks plaguing her, he had, with a few incisive comments absolved her of blame. And she believed him. She believed in him.

But she needed to talk to him now. Camille hit the mattress with a fist. She knew him well enough to realise that without encouragement he might run in the opposite direction. So confident in his work……. and his skating it seemed, yet so reserved and unsure outside of that.

And oh, that kiss. He couldn’t run because then she might never get chance to repeat it.

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Catherine wandered back down the quiet corridor, can of cola in hand. She had known her search of the hospital for a drink was likely to prove fruitless, and so it had until she had, quite literally, bumped into a nurse coming back from a mid-shift break; an old friend of the family who had rustled up the soft drink from somewhere, promising to come and find out how Camille was after work.

Turning the corner she could see Richard ahead of her and she slowed to observe him surreptitiously. Frown deeply in place and leaning forward with his hands clasped he looked entirely lost in his own world, yet carrying the weight of that world on his shoulders. 

He looked up as she approached, jumping to his feet to greet her politely with a nod. “Catherine.”

“Hello Richard.” She smiled pleasantly in response. “Are you waiting to see Camille?”

“Erm.” He glanced down at his feet, cleared his throat and then focused on the wall across the corridor. “I was just waiting for an update really. Check she’s ok and then…….have you seen her?”

“I have yes. She’s still to be seen by the doctor. Getting impatient now I might add! Why don’t you pop your head in now? I think she will be glad of the distraction.”

He shook his head violently and took a step back. “No, no. It’s ok. I’d just be in the way. Best to…. you know, let her rest.”

Catherine toyed with trying to persuade him, then let the thought go, suspecting he would dig his heels in. Perhaps hospitals stressed him out as much as nuns did, or maybe he was blaming himself for whatever had caused Camille’s fall. She didn’t get the impression they had argued though; she would usually have been able to tell from her daughter’s reactions and Camille had looked preoccupied but not angry.

“Ok. I will tell her you are asking after her though.”

Richard looked panicked, face draining of colour. She wondered how he was going to respond as he opened his mouth to speak but after a second or two, he closed it once more, nodded briefly in her general direction and sank back into his seat, withdrawing within himself.

Tiny was perched on the hospital bed by Camille’s knees when she got back to the room; entertaining his friend with stories of his travels and adventures in Mexico. Her daughter’s eyes flicked to the door as she entered, other than that there was little evidence to suggest she was perhaps hoping for alternative company. 

Five minutes later the doctor arrived and Tiny and Catherine were encouraged to leave the room.

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Finally, finally Camille was allowed to leave. She wasn’t surprised they had kept her as long as they had; her blood pressure must be through the roof now. 

Leaning on the balcony as her mother unlocked the door to the apartment she looked around her; hardly noticing the dawn glow in the quiet streets. Why hadn’t he come to check on her? 

It was all very well being poor at dealing with emotions but even the most un-empathetic of people would surely check on an injured colleague? As time went on, the crosser she was becoming.

“Camille?” Her mothers hand on her arm brought her back to the present. “Come in darling. I’ll make us both something to eat and then you can get some sleep.”

“No. I need to……” Catherine was stood patiently waiting for the rest of the sentence but she trailed off. 

Oh what was the use? It could not be described as morning yet. She had had no sleep and she had a cracking headache. On top of that she must look dreadful; hair a mess, clothes crumpled and tired from almost twenty-four hours use, and a large colourful lump above one eye. Her mother’s suggestion of food and sleep was no doubt the better option for now. Add a shower to the list and she might even feel vaguely human. 

Then.

And then she could go and beat some sense into her DI.

She took a breath and smiled. “Oui Maman. That sounds like a good idea.”

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Try as he might, sleep would not come. 

Richard tormented himself. He had tried reading and music, a hot shower and then a cold one. He had tried focusing on contracting and relaxing each individual muscle in his body in turn, and then on an internal image of a ball which rose and fell in time with his breathing. The ball had slipped away, bouncing into the recesses of his mind and giving way to yet another recounting of his afternoon and evening. 

Would it have been better to see her after all? There was, after all, only so much she could have said or done to him with other people in the room.

And what if the doctor he had finally accosted in the early hours of the morning was wrong? From the unsurprising instantaneous male response Richards enquiry had brought about, he was fairly sure that they had been discussing the same patient; once he had shown him his Police Badge and convince him it was official police business that was. She did not appear to be suffering from concussion and was imminently being released under the care of her mother, but what if he had missed something? 

A few times Richard got as far as tying his shoelaces to go and check on her, the thought of facing her and her mother after the liberties he had taken too much to follow through with the action. 

Even if those liberties had been responded to? Arrgggh. He felt his head might burst. Or feasibly he might just empty the contents of his stomach. It was almost worth hoping Camille had a touch of amnesia. 

Not that that would help his brain, or his heart.

Their kiss had been…..it had felt right. Messy and passionate and wrong on so many levels yet perfect.

Finally body and mind gave way and he fell into a restless sleep, waking with a start to loud knocking on the door.


	13. Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An apology…I did try to have them sort things out and communicate in this chapter…but they do seem to like arguing!

Finally body and mind gave way and he fell into a restless sleep, waking with a start to loud knocking on the door…….

 

“Anyone in there?”

He shook his head firmly, trying to anchor himself to the present. 

“Chief?”

He stumbled to the door and opened it with bleary eyes. “What is it Dwayne?”

“Really sorry Chief but Camille’s not answering her phone and Fidel is off.”

“That doesn’t explain why you are waking me.” Richard replied, observing Dwayne trying to peer around him into the darkened room behind but not conscious enough to wonder why.

“Of course. Yes. We’ve had reports of a lot of activity around the harbor through the night and wondered if it was worth checking out.”

Richard sighed, his brain now wide-awake. It was dreadful to admit he had been hoping for a murder. That would have been a fine distraction. “Give me five minutes to dress.”

888888888888888

 

By the end of the day Richard was fit to drop. Patrolling the harbour had brought fortuitous results; a decent drug haul from dealers who were obviously not bright enough to plan how and when they were going to smuggle the stuff in without attracting attention. They were mostly young and inexperienced and, unusually in Richards opinion, either more scared, or more trusting of the Police than their handlers since a few names had been mentioned which warranted further investigation.

It might have been considered a fruitful day were it not for the glaring omission of his DS by his side. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand across his brow, unsure how to get out of the hole he appeared to have dug for himself. From past experience he knew it wasn’t going to get any better tomorrow, or the next day. Hell, he had even sworn that never again would he get into a position where there was tension between them.

So that had been successful then!

Camille had turned up by the quayside around lunchtime, alerted by the missed calls from Dwayne and the lack of Police presence at the station. To his eyes she had looked stunning. Tired but exquisitely beautiful with sunglasses in place and her hair styled so that it almost completely hid her injury and dressed in a sleeveless cream top, which had delicately clung to her body and wide legged trousers in a soft blue. She had gracefully negotiated her way through the small crowd who had gathered to try and listen in on the arrest, ignoring their admiring gazes to stride straight up to Richard, which caused him to stumble over the rights he had been reading to one of the young criminals.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re not needed so go home.”

Not his finest sentence, he had to admit. 

She had pushed her glasses up onto her forehead to stare at him. “And that’s really all you have to say to me?”

Her voice had shaken slightly and Richard was willing to bet that she would not have been this calm in a less public place. He had glanced across at the man stood next to him, who had been earwigging quite unsubtly with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face and then back to Camille.

“At the moment yes.”

She growled. It was the only way to describe the noise that had emanated from the back of her throat. Disgusted? Furious? Disappointed? He couldn’t tell, only that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear from him. 

“Camille……’ he had called out, but she had already spun on her heels to walk away leaving him struggling to focus on work; an alien feeling.

As dusk had fallen, and work finally wrapped up for the day, Richard had nervously crept up to her door, not really sure what he was going to say, but knowing he had to try. He had knocked gently, and then more firmly upon it before accepting that the lack of an answer, drawn shutters and leaflets half stuffed underneath the front door were a strong indication that no-one was home.

Cradling a beer Richard wandered out onto the verandah, spotting Harry darting along the railing as the waves lapped gently against a deserted beach in the background. 

Tiny’s phone call just now had probably been the most depressing part of his day. That he needed to be told by a third party that his DS would be at the rink at lunchtime tomorrow was sobering. And that Tiny had rung to complain it was too early to send her back to work as if he had any choice over the matter made it worse. He sighed; at least he would see her tomorrow and maybe they would get chance to talk then. Leaning back against the rail, he took a slow mouthful of the cold beer.

88888888888888

 

The loud blaring of a taxi’s horn the next morning made Richard jump, sending the middle aged lady and two teenage girls behind him in the bus queue into fits of giggles. Catherine flung open the back door and waved him over.

“You’ll never make it in time waiting for the bus. Get in with us.”

Us? Richard gulped. The claustrophobic environment of a taxi with company was not exactly how he would have wished his next meeting with Camille would go but Catherine was right, the bus was already late and a much slower method of travel. He would most likely miss the public session altogether if he waited there. He nodded at the bar owner and scrambled clumsily into the empty passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt before turning around to thank the two ladies in the back. 

“Don’t thank me. Maman pointed out that it would be a wasted journey if you didn’t turn up.” Camille spoke in monotone, large glasses firmly in place hiding her eyes.

“Camille….”he started, to no response.

“Camille?”

Catherine raised an eyebrow at her daughter’s lack of response but remained silent. The younger woman huffed, finally replying with a curt “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

The remainder of the journey was silent.

Tiny was waiting just inside the doors of the Centre and greeted Camille with a tender but enveloping hug, pulling her glasses down her nose and parting her hair to examine the colourful bruise. He shook his head at her and Richard, who was hovering just behind. 

“You’re mad coming back today you know, a real glutton for punishment. This could have waited, it’s not important enough.”

“It is to the victims.” Camille smiled, extracting herself from Tiny’s hold.

Richard almost retorted that if the victims were stupid enough to take mobile phones onto ice rinks then they almost deserved what they got but thought better of it and quietly followed Camille down towards the changing rooms.

By the time they got on the rink a few people were skating around; two matronly women wobbling their way around the edge, a group of teenagers attempting to dance in tune to the music which pumped out of speakers above them and a dad teaching his young son how to change direction easily. He took a deep breath and then, allowing his voice to carry, began to teach Camille the first principles of skating, as if it were their first lesson.

Gradually the arena filled up; shrieks of laughter, loud teasing banter and softer words of encouragement drifting through the air. If Camille had been nervous about stepping back onto the ice then she was keeping it hidden, and although Richard was well aware of his inability to read her emotions, it seemed to him that the tension between them was easing as they slotted back into their smooth working relationship. So far though, they had had no luck at spotting anything out of the ordinary and there was only so much longer they could linger for, knowing how long lessons generally lasted. 

They stood side by side, for all the world having a relaxed break, Richard occasionally picking out examples of good and bad techniques for use as teaching points when someone passed within earshot. 

“What are you sorry for?”

The unexpected question was spoken softly as Camille’s eyes scanned the skaters with a practiced eye and Richard almost missed it completely. Nor did he have a reply for her.

“I…well I, everything?”

She whipped her head around, eyes glinting with anger for a second before she blinked slowly and very obviously let her shoulders drop.

“And what if I don’t want…..” he frowned as she broke off, altering her question. “Why didn’t you check up on me in the hospital?”

“I did!”

“When?”

“The doctor who assessed you gave me a report.”

“Over the phone?” She sounded rightly incredulous at the thought of such lax medical confidentiality.

“No, at the hospital.”

“You were there?”

Richard was aware that there was no right answer to this. “Yes. Ask your mother if you don’t believe me.”

“All the time?”

“Until they said they were discharging you, yes.”

“But you didn’t come to see me and ask ME how I was?”

“Um..” 

“And then you sent me away yesterday?”

“Camille, we were in the middle of an arrest!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her volume had risen and Richards peripheral vision caught skaters heads turning. Drawing attention to themselves was definitely not what he wanted.

“Nothing is wrong with me. Look I said I was sorry. Is now really the time or place?” he was getting frustrated now. 

“No it’s not.” Camille shook her head. “And it won’t ever be. I don’t know what I was thinking of.”

Was she talking to him? Richard was confused now. He thought she had been spoiling for a fight and she did look angry, but not so angry that she was going to continue berating him in public. Despite her moods being a constant puzzle to him, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him he didn’t like this one. 

Almost like history repeating itself, and fear of skating nowhere in evidence whilst her focus remained elsewhere, she turned and pushed away from the barrier……and directly into a young man who had been moving carefully but uncertainly around the middle of the rink. 

The speed of the collision meant that neither was in danger of injury but Richard did think his heart might not withstand its recent treatment as he watched the pair tumble to the floor. Camille landed on top of the man whose grin and subsequent comment brought the first genuine smile to her face that he had seen that day.


	14. Us

Camille smiled at the man beneath her who grinned back engagingly. She guessed he was about her age; white but deeply tanned and sporting a broad set of gleaming teeth. 

“Sorry,” she apologised politely, trying to control the whirl of emotions Richard had elicited.

“Don’t be. I might take up skating regularly if a beautiful woman lands on top of me every time I do.”

Oh this one was smooth. She started to crawl backwards, untangling herself from the man below, hampered when he grabbed her arms to stop her. “Hang on.”

Camille frowned and he continued hastily, his cocky façade disappearing to be replaced by a nervous expression. “ I’m actually not very good at this and I don’t think I can get up without help. Maybe we could help each other up?’

At the back of Camille’s brain, something didn’t feel quite right, but she nodded her assent reflecting with a painful dart shooting through her chest, that spending all of her time with, or thinking about, a certain DI must have ruined any standard interaction with friendly normal guys. 

With much wobbling and fumbling, bit by bit they pulled each other up into standing then linked arms and staggered to the side of the rink. The opposite side to Richard Camille noted, failing to resist a glance over her shoulder to where he stood, watching them through the moving throng. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?”

“That guy over there. The one you keep looking at. Looks like I might be treading on someone’s toes?”

“Oh. No. He’s just my skating instructor.” So much for their undercover work. It was almost laughable. Did they really look like they could ever be a couple?

“Doesn’t look terribly happy.”

“Probably thinks he won’t get paid. After all, I’m not getting much better am I!”

“Well I’ve never seen you skate before but you didn’t look to be doing that badly before I got in your way.”

Camille accepted the compliment with an incline of her head, fighting the temptation to look for Richard again. 

“If you’re not in a rush, would you stumble around with me for a bit? I think having a gorgeous woman on my arm will do wonders for my skating technique as well as my street cred!”

He certainly had the patter, a genuinely sweet guy if a little too eager. Camille nodded and let him thread his arm around her feeling the lightest feather touch above her left buttock as he did so. It was hardly noticeable but Camille’s senses switched onto high alert. The scumbag! He was going for the obvious bulge in her pocket, the one holding the decoy mobile phone. 

Furious with herself for temporarily falling for his act and at being so distracted on a job, furious with Richard for distracting her and with the man beside her for duping so many locals and tourists, she swung around and thumped him -hard and square on the chin. 

Taken by surprise he fell firmly onto his bottom, grimacing in pain and rubbing his jaw whilst Camille clumsily reached for the railing to steady herself so that she could fish through tight pockets for her Police badge. Richard, who she knew had been rooted to the spot where she had left him, glumly watching, was now nowhere to be seen. She swore beneath her breath then grabbed the mans collar, half dragging him as she lurched to the gap in the barrier, relaxing slightly only when she saw Tiny and her mother approaching at speed from the office where they had been waiting.

“Get these things off me!” She directed at them, gesturing at her skates frustratedly. If she could walk again then maybe she could do her job properly.

Socks and skates finally discarded, Camille made the arrest, her mother producing handcuffs from the colourful shoulder bag she carried whilst Tiny stood stubbornly by her side like a minder, his size an added to deterrent to any criminal thinking of escape. 

Richard was still nowhere to be seen. Camille sighed. She was getting fed up of his disappearing acts. “Tiny, could you look after him please? Somewhere he can’t help himself to other peoples property, and then ring Dwayne for back up?”

“Er….yes. But where will you be?” Tiny sounded hesitant. 

“I am going to find my boss.” Stay here Maman.” She turned and stalked off in bare feet, ignoring her mother’s protests and Tiny’s confession that Richard had asked him to look after her here.

Why on earth would Richard get Tiny to keep her there? The initial feeling of outrage quickly faded and a prickle of unease ran through her as she made her way through the corridors, checking in each room one after another. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

She found him in the car park. Leaning heavily on a railing and looking down at his skate shod feet, blood making spatter patterns on the tarmac as it dripped from his nose.   
“Oh no Richard!” The anger and frustration of previous days melting away and forgetting her lack of shoes, she ran across to him, placing a gentle hand on either side of his face to tilt it just enough that she could assess the damage. 

“Do you have a tissue?”

“In my pocket.”

Expertly patting him down, she located the white handkerchief and pulled it out, placing it over his nose. His hand brushed hers as he took over, pinching the bridge of his nose firmly to try and stem the flow. 

“Thanks.”

“Are you ok?”

He nodded his reply.

“Did you manage to get a good look at whoever did this to you?”

He looked at her oddly then nodded again. 

“Just so we can be on the lookout for the bastards.” She clarified, her unusual use of the expletive heartfelt.

“Don’t need to.” Richard replied, his voice muffled behind the cotton square. 

Camille followed the line of his gesturing hand, to a cycle rail by the corner of the building where man and a woman sat back to back on the ground. Possibly in their twenties, and casually dressed, they wore identical sullen expressions. The man she could see, was fixed to the rail thanks to the handcuffs around each wrist but the woman? She peered closer – was that?

“Your tie Richard?”

He shrugged.

A discreet scan of the car park revealed no-one else around. “ How on earth did you manage that?”

“ I can handle myself you know. I’m not completely useless!”

“ I have never thought of you as useless.” Her retort was as genuine as it was instantaneous.

He leveled a look at her as if he were begging to differ but said nothing.

“No, truly! What I meant was you weren’t wearing a tie today!”

He lowered the handkerchief. “Very well observed detective.”

She wasn’t going to let him get away with diverting her with slightly sarcastic compliments. “So?”

He flushed, pausing and then confessed. “You’re always on at me to take it off so I did….but then I kept one in my pocket, you know, just in case….” He lifted a shoulder self-consciously. 

Camille beamed at him, unable to help herself and her stomach flipped. He’d taken his tie off for her. 

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Smile at me like that. It’s disturbing.”

Camille’s beam grew and she giggled as Richard shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, eyes darting from her face, to his skates and across the empty car park. 

Eventually he spoke. “So why are you out here?”

“ I was looking for you. I was worried!”

“Were you?” A crease formed between his brows as he looked directly at her, obviously trying to persuade himself she was speaking the truth. 

“Yes.” She replied clearly and firmly drumming home the point. “It’s not like you to disappear when I am making an arrest.”

“I made sure you weren’t going to be alone on the ice.”

“I know. My minder let it slip.” 

“I didn’t have time to do anything else. I saw those two,” he waved an arm at the firmly bound pair twenty yards away. “As soon as you realised he was attempting to pickpocket you, they slipped quietly off the ice. It was lucky they were in my line of vision or I might never have noticed them. They were pretty slick and acting very normally until they saw me following and ran. Guess I am better at running in skates than they are!”

“ I nearly missed him going for the phone.” Camille admitted ruefully, remembering the feather light touch near her back pocket and wondering if Richard would want to know why she had been so distracted but he simply nodded and bent to unlace his boots, stepping out of them and wriggling his toes.

“That’s better,” he breathed, and then frowned as he glanced across at her naked feet. “You’re not wearing any shoes?” 

“Very well observed detective.” She shot back at him.

He flashed her a sardonic smile. “You should go back inside before you cut yourself on something.”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll keep you company until the cavalry arrive. Tiny was well in control of Smiler when I left him.”

“Smiler?”

“Surely you noticed his teeth? He must have thought dazzling people with his smile was a good tactic.”

She could see Richard swallowing hard and attempting to look nonchalant at her favourable description of the offenders smile. Her heart gave a hopeful leap. Standing across from her in sock clad feet, slightly dusty grey chino’s topped with a button down shirt and a scuffed nose and cheek, dried blood in small droplets here and there. It was such an odd feeling to think of him as her hero, especially recognising all those occasions when he made her insanely furious with him. But he was.

“Look at us! What a pair we make looking like we do.” She motioned towards his nose and then her own forehead.

“I’m not sure you can ever include the two of us in the same sentence.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you look incredible no matter what you wear, or how many bruises you have.”

Her heart leapt again. “Incredible enough to fight for?” she tested gently.

“I don’t understand.”

Camille paused, wanting to get this right. “What did you apologise for this morning Richard?” She held her breath, not quite sure what his answer would be, and not sure she could take yet another swoop of disappointment if he sidestepped. 

“I’m sorry for not coming to see you at the hospital.” His voice was quiet but clear and he lifted his green eyes to hold her wide brown gaze.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, accepting the apology, willing him to say more.

“And I’m sorry for sending you away yesterday. I could have phrased it much better.”

“How?”

“Oh you know,” he shrugged. “Asked you how you were. Asked you to wait for me until I had made the arrest. Arranged to meet later when we could talk more freely.”

“Yes. You should have done.” She smiled to soften the words.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Richard’s heart was thudding. He was convinced if she looked closely, that Camille would be able to see the ricochets against his chest wall but she appeared to be still absorbing his apologies. He focused on his breathing, briefly scanning the car park through sheer habit. It remained quiet, though Dwayne couldn’t be far away.

“Is that it?” She sounded slightly hesitant.

“Pardon?” This felt like a whirlwind, and he was having trouble keeping up. He wanted to be sure of the question, sensing he couldn’t afford many more wrong moves.

“Is there anything else you want to apologise for?”

Nope, he hadn’t got it wrong. He was pretty sure he knew what she was asking him. And she was his best friend and he couldn’t – wasn’t prepared to lie to her direct question even being as unsure as he was about the consequences.

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.” He watched a smile flicker around the edge of her lips. What if? Maybe? “What about you? You know. Is there anything you regret?” He asked awkwardly.

“God no.”” she exhaled sending Richards insides into a quivering mess and a hot flush rising up his throat. 

He swallowed hard. “And if we could try it again sometime?”

“Yes,” she hardly gave him a chance to finish the question; such was the vehemence of her reply.

Richard took a step forward; about to reach for her hand as Dwayne screeched into the car park on the bike, two cars filled with part time officers following him. Not again, he groaned internally. Was he always to be interrupted?

Camille’s stifled giggle prevented his mind wandering into the number of ways he could haul Dwayne off the bike and tie him up beside the criminals.

“Work.” She said softly. “Work first and then us.”

Us. 

The word sent a warm glow thrumming through his body. 

He smiled at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews. They mean a lot. I hope you enjoy this and are having fun during the summer.


	15. Change

The sun had long since set by the time Tiny had threaded his way around the tables in La Kaz to join Catherine and the Honore Police Department. He held a disc above his head. "Got it!"

"What's that?" The bar owner asked, handing him a bottled beer.

"Richard's action man moment. Caught on camera courtesy of the CCTV unit we have in the car park."

Richard made a grab for it, too slow as Camille triumphantly got there first, swiftly moving it behind her back. "Ah, ah, ah."

"It's evidence in case they claim Police brutality or some such nonsense," he protested "No-one here needs to see it."

"I'll keep it safe. I promise." She grinned at him.

He wasn't going to win this one. He knew it; she knew it. Hell, looking around the table, the rest of the gathering all knew it too.

He lowered his hand back to his beer, sighing.

Tiny laughed, raising his drink into the air. "Well done – and thank you."

Dwayne chinked bottles. "To us!"

He meant the whole team, Richard recognised that but his body was on high alert with the use of the word. Eyes sliding sideways, they met with Camille's deep brown smiling gaze. She looked happier than she had in weeks. Was he really responsible for some of that? It seemed inconceivable, too much to take in. Heart quickening he released his fingers from around the beer bottle. He needed some air. Pushing his chair quietly back from the table he wandered out to the front of the restaurant, nodding politely to the arriving volunteer Policemen who had been invited to join the celebratory drinks.

How his life had changed. He looked up and down the dark streets, a warm breeze ruffling the canvas awning above him and lively music leaking from the bar behind. And might be about to change again he acknowledged, a mixture of wonder and dread swirling within him.

She approached him silently but there was no element of surprise. He knew Camille; was coming to terms with her habit of checking up on him, rounding him up and including him in her, in his team's lives.

Adopting a mirrored position, they leant shoulder to shoulder, contemplating the shadowy street unhurriedly.

"Enjoying the party?"

"Oh it's not a party yet. You wait till Maman gets everyone dancing." She paused, and then cut off any reply he might have been about to make with a nudge of his shoulder. "And don't think you'll get out of it now that we've seen how you can move on ice."

"No" he agreed solemnly after a pause. "I've rather given myself away haven't I."

Seemingly, she understood the double meaning behind his words. "Have you?"

She sounded serious, hopeful even. He glanced around at her face to confirm his suspicions and his heart thudded.

"My feelings for you are not terribly professional." There. He'd said it.

"I'm very pleased to hear it."

"Really?"

"Really." She nodded firmly, smiling. "Mine aren't either."

He realised he must be grinning like a loon but it didn't matter because she was grinning too. How could this be possible? At his age, with his personality and poor history with women, how could he have got so lucky? And to be able to be together everyday, working alongside one another and…

Camille was watching his face and saw the moment panic gripped him. She had observed his beautiful shy smile burgeon into an ear splitting beam and had made out the flush on his cheeks in the dim light cast upon them from the bar behind before his face froze in a rigor mortis like mask. Reaching out she gently laid her hand over his, squeezing lightly. "Don't"

"But…"

"No Richard." She cut him off decisively, maintaining a soft but firm contact through her hand atop his. "I know what you are thinking. You're thinking that I work with you, report to you, that we're a small team and it's unprofessional to have a personal relationship with me."

Richard nodded dumbly, smile gone.

"So describe to me what would happen tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, if we chose to deny our feelings."

She allowed the thought to sink in before continuing. "Not a great scenario is it? And I'm quite sure neither Dwayne nor Fidel want to work in an office with us trying to avoid one another."

"One of us would have to leave."

"Yes." She studied him as he rubbed the furrow in his forehead firmly with two fingers. "Surely giving us a chance is not that much of a risk. And one that's worth taking?"

"You believe that?" he looked at her, a spark of hope in his eyes.

"I do." For all that he aggravated her and provoked her, challenged her and at times insulted her, she was in no doubt. Quite how this unusual man had stolen her heart would be a puzzle she could wonder about in the future. For now all she wanted was to prove her certainty to him.

Richard took an audible gulp of air. "I feel sick," he confessed.

Camille smiled at him rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.

"Richard? Camille?" Catherine's voice could be heard calling. "Can I get you another drink?"

Camille raised her voice and replied without turning "Oui Maman, two more beers. We'll be in in a minute." She gave another squeeze to his hand on the railing and then released it reluctantly. "We should probably go and celebrate with the rest of the team and save this conversation for later."

"No wait." Richard grabbed hold of her arm. "Whilst we are in the mood for confessions….." he shrugged self consciously. "I have another apology to make."

Richard watched through the dim light as Camille scrutinised him. She nodded, apparently as much to herself as to him and then settled herself into a chair. He pulled its partner out from beneath the small table, lowering himself into it without breaking his focus from the woman in front of him. She swept her hair unsuccessfully across one shoulder, flexed her fingers and then tapped them on the table before consciously stilling them. He didn't think he could ever tire of watching how she moved; her grace when she walked or ran or swung her long legs across her desk at work, through to the little twitches of impatience when she attempted to remain still for any length of time. She fascinated him.

"Richard?"

He was getting distracted. "Yes, sorry."

******************

"So?" Dwayne questioned Catherine pointedly as she worked her way back to the table.

She raised an eyebrow at him, waving a hand to encompass the whole table. Gossiping amongst friends was one thing but not in front of a wider audience. He would have to wait.

He caught the gesture, pulling out the empty chair beside him and patting it. "Come and sit by me and whisper in my shell like. Folks – talk amongst yourselves. This good lady and I have private business to discuss!"

Catherine sighed, then laughed good naturedly and skirted the table, leaning over the back of the chair to position her mouth by Dwayne's ear. He tilted his head towards her.

"They would like two more beers."

Dwayne's shoulders dropped. "Well that's progress of sorts I suppose – the Chief staying to celebrate with us."

"But?"

"But I thought they might prefer to be nipping off for a more private celebration." He waggled his eyebrows to further communicate his meaning.

Catherine lowered her brows, exaggerating a frown at him. "Remember that's my daughter you're talking about."

He grinned unrepentantly and took a slurp of his drink. "Sorry."

*****************

"And that was really the only reason you kept the case from me at the start?"

He looked down, slightly ashamed. "Yes."

"That you didn't want me knowing you could skate as well as that, if at all."

"Yes."

"That's a bit, how do you say, minable."

He understood the meaning despite his lack of French. "I know."

"And not terribly professional, to leave your most senior officer out of the loop."

"I do know all this." Richard retorted grumpily.

"It's a good job I'm in a forgiving mood isn't it!" She smirked at him, holding a hand up to indicate there was more. "But…."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I have two requests. One is that keeping things from me must never happen again..."

He inclined his head in the affirmative.

"Two, You have to tell me here and now what made you take up skating."

Richard grimaced. "Now?"

"Yup." She settled back more deeply into her chair, elbows folded.

"There was a girl I really liked when I was ten. I wanted to impress her." He blushed and squirmed slightly in his chair, recalling his childhood self.

"And did you?"

Richard shook his head. "Turns out it made me look more weird not less. And as I got older a number of acquaintances merely assumed I was a closet homosexual."

She barked out a laugh before smothering it with a hand, taking a slow breath, and then another to try and compose herself, and to stop her mouth trying to turn upward at the corners. "But none of that really explains why you didn't tell me."

He sighed. "It's pretty obvious really."

Camille arced an eyebrow, begging to differ.

"I'd learnt by experience that it's not the way to impress a girl you really like." He shrugged his shoulders self-consciously and twisted his neck awkwardly.

Camille leant forward, reaching her hands across the table towards him. "Well it has impressed me."

He smiled at her, before averting his eyes briefly to gaze down the darkened street. His world all seemed a little surreal tonight, and yet at the same time, frighteningly and unmistakably real. Shyly he pressed his palm against her open outstretched hand, stroking a finger exploratively along her smooth skin. Silently mapping the geography of her hand, every movement sent sparks fizzing through his veins. It was an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling yet so exciting. So many emotions over the last days, weeks..., months even were warring within him, so many that he had less and less control over. Another glance at her face took in the wide dark eyes and curious stillness of her body as she focused intently on their joined hands.

"If we…."

"Yes." Camille's voice was roughened and deep.

"If we do this, can we maybe keep it between ourselves for a while?"

"I don't think we're fooling anyone."

"Perhaps not but we work together and... and professionalism is important to me."

"I know." She replied, rolling her eyes at his obvious statement before continuing with a mischievous smile widening her mouth. "I can do illicit."

Richards's heart flipped and he swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry as visions swept into his brain. A heat was spreading through his cheeks and their innocent palm to palm contact was becoming inadequate.

A blast of music hit them as someone inside turned up the volume on a lively reggae number. Camille laughed, dropping her gaze to the table so that her hair fell forward across her face.

"But the game will be up instantly if we stay out here any longer so it's time for me to rejoin the celebrations inside."

Smoothing her palm against his, she withdrew her hand slowly and then pushed her chair back to stand. "Are you coming?"

He nodded. "In a minute." She fanned her face with her hands, flicked her hair back across her shoulders and then flashed him a beaming smile before disappearing through the entrance. Oh God. He was truly done for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly let me apologise. I have had this chapter and most of another one written for 6 months now but have been failing miserably to finish it off and make it look half decent. New house, new schools, new jobs and absolutely rubbish internet are amongst the excuses but I hate reading half finished stories and now have become one of those people!
> 
> If any of you are still here, then I hope you enjoyed this. Happy New Year! 
> 
> I sincerely hope I don't upset anyone with Richards comments about his friends reactions to ice skating. I am not an ice skater myself although have loved watching it all my life. I imagine that Richard was brought up in a very traditional household/community in the 70's and since my sons friend even very recently wasn't allowed to take up ballet/dance because of similar prejudices, I would imagine those feelings were not unusual.


End file.
